


Remembering Tomorrow - Where My Heart Is: The Tale of the Life-Mate

by professionalsuethor



Category: Star Wars Legends: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Admiral Thrawn - Freeform, Alien / Chiss Romance, Alternate Expanded Universe, Alternate Universe Cafe Star Wars, Alvar - Freeform, Alvaran, Art Enthusiast Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Ascendency, Asexual Romance, Awkward Romance, Bailey & Dumont Paranormal Investigation Agency, Barista Ben Kenobi, Book: The Thrawn Trilogy: Heir to the Empire, Bromance, Chaos Magick, Chiss, Chiss / Human Hybrid Children, Clairsentience / Psychometry, Color Holo-Vids, Depression, Eli Vanto - Freeform, Empaths / Psychics, Extraterrestrial Romance, F/M, Grand Admiral Thrawn - Freeform, Honey Bailey - Freeform, Hope After Suicide Attempt(Survival & Recovery), Hyper Sigils, Illegal Fraternization, Interspecies Sex, Kaldreena, Kidnapping with Romantic Intent, Lemons, Masturbation, Matchmaking, Nonlinear Time Experience, Occult, Paranormal, Paranormal Investigators, Paranormal Romance, Recording / Voyeurism Humiliation, Revenge, Sexual / Romantic Frustration, Sexual / Romantic Tension, Sexual Inexperience/Naivety, Sue-Ellen Dumont - Freeform, Tarot, The Oracle of the Rebellion, Thrawn, Thrawn Comics, Urban Fantasy, Witchcraft, interspecies Marriage, jumping, the oracle - Freeform, universe hopping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:34:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23741917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professionalsuethor/pseuds/professionalsuethor
Summary: After an unsuccessful suicide attempt Honey Bailey is given hope when she meets Sue-Ellen Dumont. A year later they open a Paranormal Investigation Agency of their very own. Professor Dumont is murdered for possessing knowledge about dimension travel or “Jumping” and our girls are called to work on the case. Their person of interest, Dr. Caraway, is missing. They follow a lead after his son, Hank, who used this form of magick to travel to another Universe with Sue-Ellen’s Star Wars memorabilia in hand. In the Imperial Navy, Thrawn suffers through what is called “The Mourning Year” when his 39th birthday hits. Chiss are like werewolves but don’t become mythical beasts under the full moon. Their physiology and psychology only allow them to have a single Mate during their entire lifespan. Their DNA merges with their Life-Mate and a psychic/energetic bond is created. If a Chiss hasn’t mated they suffer a year and if that Life-Mate isn’t found, become impotent and sterile.  It’s rare for Chiss to reach that age before finding a Life-Mate. According to Eli Vanto’s mythology, suicide is common. Unfortunately, for Thrawn, he was exiled before finding his Mate.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Original Female Character(s), Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 10





	1. 01 His Wish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sue_Clover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sue_Clover/gifts).



> Time to ruin the internet with this piece. Gonna make fanboys cry and scream in rage. If he reads this, I have no doubt in my mind that Timothy Zahn will find me and murder me. 
> 
> Bring it. 
> 
> Either hate it or enjoy it. 
> 
> I welcome both flames and positive comments. 
> 
> Take into account that if you bitch in the comments all I'm gonna do is laugh. (:
> 
> The way I depict Thrawn in this fic is probably nowhere near the canon but who really gives a damn anymore? Hell, at this point, I'm a lonely, bored, love-starved, unmarried housewife under quarantine(thanks pandemic) who can post her fantasies online anonymously for the internet to barf over. (: Sorry, not sorry.
> 
> Time to fuck shit up.

**Disclaimer: _I do not own Star Wars or Thrawn or Eli Vanto. These are trademarks of LucasFilm, Disney, Timothy Zahn or whoever else has copyright to this. This work is simply something entertaining I wrote for my friends and myself to enjoy._**

**Remembering Tomorrow**  
_**The Tale of the Life-Mate** _

**01 His Wish**

_Mercy._ It was the only word that came to mind as he mulled over the orders given. _‘The Mourning Age’_ that Chiss men went through at the age of thirty-nine was considered both a curse and a blessing. The menopausal deadline was arriving. A lot sooner than he expected. He dedicated an intense two years or so of academy and military service in the Imperial Navy alongside Commander Eli Vanto, only to be brought down by a hormonal meltdown. Admiral Thrawn felt incredibly inadequate in this stance of life. An Ancestral tradition passed down by generations of Chiss left him humiliated and bewildered at his plight. He thought for sure he’d have more time — _but when life calls…_

An ordinary life was not one he was prepared for. He’d forced himself to be celibate in both flesh and in heart for years. All the blood rushing through his system made him weary and hot. This was something he longed for his entire life but pushed to the back of his mind with campaign activities and artistic pursuits. Such distractions proved futile in his darkest hour. 

His lack of focus caused him to fail considerably due to the surge of hormones and emotional instability. His superiors forced him to take a sabbatical and to allow Captain Pellaeon to take command of the Imperial Star Destroyer _the Chimaera_ under the jurisdiction of the Imperial Navy under the Empire. Thrawn, the Admiral of said ship, was told he couldn’t receive his promotion until he “waded through” this "health condition". If he didn’t get his act together after the sabbatical they would demote him and execute him without honors. 

Mercy and Luck were what kept his immediate extermination from happening. Because of his outstanding service in the Navy, alongside his exceptional tactical skills, he was granted leniency. Outside of that? There was no compassion. Only what he could do for them — even if he was considered ‘alien’ to their forces. If he were concerned with gentleness then he would have joined the Resistance. However, his insight led him to join the Empire because they had the strongest might and likelihood of success. There was a lot of potential among their ranks — despite the slander he received throughout academy. That would be a story for another time, though.

He wouldn’t have been able to maneuver through the ranks, at least politically, without Governor Arihnda Pryce, either. She proved to be a useful ally. 

Thrawn stood in his quarters, leaning his weight against the arm that was on the window. He looked out at the dark expanse of space, his bare back chiseled with muscle. That dark, blue skin practically fell into shadow in the dimly lit room. He wore fitting, black trousers and his bare feet graced the chilly floor. His eyes were an iridescent red, depending on how the light hit it. Their reflection glowed against the glass.

“Of all of my skills of persuasion, tactics, and personal manipulations…” He muttered to himself, “One would think I’d not fail at this… And yet —”

He paused.

“ …I’m here — with _what?_ ” 


	2. 02 Bloody Holiday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honey recovers from a suicide attempt. She meets Sue-Ellen. Thrawn is forced to take sabbatical.

**Remembering Tomorrow**   
**Where My Heart Is**   
_**The Tale of the Life-Mate** _

_‘Tis hard to remember yesterday and_   
_A tad easier for yesteryear_   
_Tomorrow I know, oh so clearly_   
_And within them all_   
_I remember you near_

_I remember tomorrow_   
_As real as the wind in my chest_   
_Fickle as the balefire’s ash_   
_Only to be a fading guest_

_There you are, the phantom of my heart_   
_Only to be gone before we start_   
_A pale figure of the morrow_   
_I know you’re there_   
_Though the waiting is sorrow_

_Come back to me_   
_As more than a hint of my memory_   
_Come back to me_   
_As more than the future of yesterday’s story_   
_Come back to me_   
_For all at once time is told_   
_Come back to me_   
_Where yesterday is tomorrow_   
_And tomorrow is part of yesterday’s mold_   
_Come back to me_   
_For Eternity is now — it’s just time’s way_   
_Where in my present all of them stay_

_There you are, the phantom of my heart_   
_Only to be gone before we start_   
_A pale figure of the morrow_   
_I know you’re there_   
_Though the waiting is sorrow_

**02 Bloody Holiday**  
What jolted her was a loud noise in the background of the living room. Honey’s eyes shot open with terror. Even though she realized she was on the floor in the living room, it didn’t stop the panic that tightened her chest. Was it already evening? Her head was killing her. She had no idea what she was doing there. Why was she on the floor again? 

She blinked to see an empty bottle of wine cradled under the La-Z-Boy — its neck poking out as if to taunt her. Tony — her dark gray, long-haired cat — licked her face. Groaning, snippets of memory returned in sharp pain through her temples. 

Her eyes seemed to glaze as she stared at the kitchen knife that was level to her eyes. It reflected the active, changing colors from the television just behind her. Yeah, she’d been drunk beyond words. 

Oh, that was right. She was going to kill herself. 

The reason she wanted to die was because she was such a fuck up — and here she was, with the indisputable truth of such. 

“…Honey Bailey, you can’t even _kill yourself_ right.”

With another groan, she turned over onto her back and the cat nestled onto the back of her wavy, long, black hair. She picked up the knife and stared at the blade. To think many an artist in the past had taken their own lives. Maybe, like them, after her death her words and name would be immortalized in time and she’d be a best-seller. 

What would be the point, though, to be famous and unable to enjoy it? 

Remembering tomorrow as though it were yesterday and being completely aware of yesterday as though it were the present. This was the burden she was gifted with since birth. As she grew into an adult — the more unstable and warped her perception of time became. Until she got to a point where she experienced it all at once and nearly lost her mind in the process. No longer was there a now.

This was her last chance to end it all. To disappear into the proverbial Milky Way in the sky. To no longer exist and stop enduring this pain. The pain of missing a lover of whom she’d not met yet. It was unbearable. 

_Don’t get chicken, now._ She heard a voice whisper into the back of her ear. 

May as well get this shit over with. The sooner the relief, the better. 

She traced the delicate flesh of her wrist for a moment while she listened to the background dialogue. Maybe it was the hangover that slurred the words — or maybe… 

When she realized the actors were speaking Japanese, in curiosity, she sat up and felt around the darkness for her glasses. Putting them on, she read the subtitles that popped up on the screen. Throughout the course of the story, it was said that a great artist had a stroke and that his wife — and his daughter, who was also an artist under him — were taking care of him. 

Dumbly, she watched the spectacle. 

He wasn’t doing so well — still in bed and not doing a thing but being nursed. 

Then a rival artist — or a friend, she wasn’t sure — came in and started yelling insults at him and did not hold back.

“So, this is what you’ve become?!” He cried, “You’re going to lie in bed and die. You’re going to give up. What a piece of work you are!”

Without a thought, he knelt down beside the artist’s head and said, “Me? I’m not going out like this. I’m going to continue to make art. If my hand cripples up — if my eyesight goes — I’m still going to make art!”

To the Western viewer this would just be blatant insults from a callous, conceited heart.

Oh, but she _knew_ — she knew that other cultures had alternative ways of helping. These weren’t insults. They were encouragement! He was being hard because that would be the only way to get his friend out of bed. 

And soon enough, he was. 

Tears welled up in her eyes. This was exactly what Honey needed to hear. This was exactly enough to give her hope. With her free arm, she wiped her eyes and sobbed. How could she not have seen it before?

Honey pushed herself up from her spot and hobbled into the kitchen. There, she tossed the knife into the sink and turned on the light. She went through a dark living room once more and headed into the bathroom where she turned on the light and the shower. 

To think a movie saved her life.

* * * *

Dealing with the insurmountable guilt of one of the paranormal cases that went awry, Honey could no longer cope with her life. While watching _KURARA: Hokusai’s Daughter_ , she mustered up enough energy to drive herself to the emergency department at a local hospital.

There, a series of questions were asked from her personal to work life and what stresses were currently ailing her; if she were suicidal or homicidal. She admitted the former but denied the following. It was a painstaking seven hours in the behavioral department of the emergency room before she was transferred to the psychiatric unit just a few floors above. There, she was stripped for a safety check, dressed again in scrubs, asked additional questions, toured the unit, was shown her room, and given a pill to help her sleep. 

With a weary expression on her face, she led herself into the Day Room where she’d seen other patients congregate. The medicine, on top of exhaustion, caused her to walk slower than usual around a craft table. Her anxiety fed her ideas of the others thinking she were either weird, stoned, or ugly — so, before she was able to introduce herself or get to know her peers, she turned and retreated out the same door she came in. 

All the energy from that room seemed to hone in directly into her core. As she sat on her bed in the dark, with the light from the hallway shining in through the cracked door, she held herself and shook. While her mind didn’t conceive their thoughts — she could feel every bit of hopelessness, despair, stress, and worry. This was insanity — it had to to be! There was no way anybody could understand the distress she was going through. Maybe if they would just give her a tablet to make her sleep all the time — or maybe _even die_ — there would be relief. 

Her body fell over, plopping onto the bed, and her legs curled up to her chest. She didn’t even bother covering herself with the sheet or blanket. Her eyes became heavy, and eventually she blacked out.

* * * *

Upon waking, Honey felt more exhausted than she did the evening before. She vaguely remembered a nurse coming in while it was still dark and taking her vitals. Her eyes were heavy and aching. She squinted in response to the morning light shining into the room from the large window behind her. This was awful. Being dead might have been easier than this.

She heard a toilet flush. That was when the door to the private restroom opened. Her roommate turned off the light and walked around her bed, pulling her hair up into a high ponytail. Honey looked at her, a little envious at the fact that they had their street clothes on and she was here stuck wearing scrubs. The nurses who admitted her into the facility said something about ‘suicide precautions’ and left it at that. 

“Breakfast should be here in about half an hour,” her roommate said, “It’d be wise to just get up because if you miss it the morning hunger will suck until lunch.”

Honey took note and sat up with a whine. Her senses spun. She was scared to go out to see the other patients. Not necessarily because she felt a real, physical threat. It was because of what happened the evening before when she attempted to socialize. 

The sensation of feeling people without touching them was new and overwhelming. Was it schizophrenia? Was she delusional? Would there be a cure?

“I’m Sue-Ellen, by the way,” her roomie said, “If you’re on suicide precautions you eat in the back Day Room. If you want, I can sit with you until you’re more comfortable and acquainted.”

“…Sure.” Honey responded monotonously.

“I’m pretty sure I’ll learn your name soon enough,” Sue-Ellen said, “You’ve got about twenty-five minutes now, so take a shower. Take a load off.”

“How long have you been here?” Honey asked.

“About eight days. I was just like you when I got here.” She replied.

“So, I’ll be as perky as you by the time I get out?” Honey stared at her.

“No guarantee,” Sue-Ellen replied, “But you’ll at least need time to straighten your head up so you can cope outside of here. I’ve done this a couple of times already, so I already know the gist of things.”

“Why do you need to be here more than once? Or even at all if you’ve got it together?”

“I’m here for the community support when things get too stressful,” Sue-Ellen replied honestly, “Plus, medicine and therapy are like ten to thirty percent of your treatment. The rest is up to you to become a better person in the end and to make a life worth living.”

Honey blinked. Her roommate gave a lot of useful information about the recovery process — but even at the time, she wouldn’t be able to benefit from it until she’d had a few experiences of her own. Still, she felt groggy and looked at the floor thoughtfully. 

When Honey lifted her head she noticed Sue-Ellen standing in the doorway holding the door open, looking back at her over her shoulder.

“Heaven starts in a hospital.” She stated, and closed the door behind her, leaving Honey bewildered.

* * * *

**Thursday — Two Years and Three Months Later**

“All I need you to do now is sign the check and the lease and you’re good to go. Do you have any more questions about the contract?” The property manager asked politely, as they sat in a booth at a diner in town.

“Do you have any questions?” Honey looked at Sue-Ellen.

Sue-Ellen shook her head and started penning her signature on the note.

Together, one at a time, they signed the lease to their new apartment and office space.

“Any more questions for me before we leave?” The manager smiled, setting the check and paperwork into a manila folder before tucking it into his suitcase.

“No, no.” Sue-Ellen shook her head still, waiting anxiously for him to hand them the keys.

He gave them to her, shook both of their hands, and went on his way.

They watched him leave with piercing stares as pointed as a hawk’s. The moment he was gone, they sighed in unison and then turned toward each other. There was a second of silence before they started squealing and making an excited fuss. They’d finally did it! They had their own business and place to live together. It was an incredible leap from the previous year. 

“I say we get a slice of cake to celebrate!” Honey cried.

“Hear, hear!” Sue-Ellen replied. They clinked their plastic glasses together. 

* * * *

**A Year and Six Months Later**

Business was slow for _Bailey & Dumont’s Paranormal Investigation_. Honey did, however, receive a small revenue from Tarot readings. It was better than nothing, she thought, even if it meant she had to deal with a bunch of desperate women asking if their ex-boyfriends were still in love with them or if their lovers were ever going to leave their wives. Those kinds of readings seemed to drawl on and she wasn’t very popular because of her opinion that her clients should let go and move on for their own emotional health grated nerves. Some asked for refunds. Others left disappointed, but fiscally merciful.

Surrounding her desk were piles upon piles of papers and books that she’d not bothered to sift through. Which was fine, most geniuses worked in chaos. Despite this borderline hoarding, she knew exactly where everything was. Except for the letter from the Fire Department saying the set up in her office was a fire hazard. That was folded into a paper airplane and tossed through the air, gliding into the bowels of the heaping messes. 

Eventually, she’d clean it. Probably after violent prompting from her partner, Sue-Ellen — but it would be done. In fact, it was Sue who handed her the letter in the first place. While they were on top of the world for about half a year after signing the lease, the honeymoon phase ceased after the first large bill they received from the City Hall. On one of their assignments there was a painstakingly long list of collateral damage done to buildings and infrastructure because of an explosion — that was totally _not_ their fault — and they were stuck with the tab. 

Talk about ungrateful! They ought to have won a medal or the _Key to the City_ or something for saving that many lives. 

While it was their dream to help as many people as possible — reality was sinking in that they were gonna suffer like a lot of start-ups in America. Especially, when the political system was geared against them. People wanted someone to deal with the supernatural threat and _Bailey & Dumont_ was there to answer their call. Then, those who were hyper-religiously inclined against using magick and witchcraft to banish said monstrosities — who had heavy influence on the public — swayed the votes for politicians and judges. The very people who supported their paranormal service betrayed them out of fear for their own skins and bank accounts. 

Soon enough, when the attempts of exorcisms, purifications, and other such services the Priesthood provided proved ineffective — there was chaos. Some came back to Bailey & Dumont, while others simply stuck with their churches despite their unavailing practices. Because of this, there were laws passed to make it harder for Honey and her friends to practice their faith. While witchcraft wasn’t exactly illegal — _harassing practitioners with lynching and isolation wasn’t_. 

While chewing her gum loudly, Honey rested back in the expensive, beautifully padded rolling office chair that she clearly hadn’t finished paying off yet. Her feet was raised and rested on the desk, crossed at the ankles. Her hair was up in a messy bun and she was reading a manga graphic novel. 

A shrill ring entered the air. She jumped in her seat and fumbled to grab the corded office phone. 

“H-Hello?” As her glasses fell down and she straightened them up. “This is _Bailey & Dumont’s Paranormal Investigation_. Detective Bailey speaking.”

“This is Detective Ronsor of Angel Falls P.D. We discovered a body at Quest University with questionable markings on it and on the walls. It’s Sue-Ellen’s father, Dr. Roger Dumont.”

“Does she—” 

“I’ve already called her. She’ll be here momentarily. I thought you’d know something, considering your… expertise.” When it came to the bizarre he typically delegated to her — but only on last resort cases.

“What area of campus are you at?” Honey’s blood chilled. Goosepimples rose on her neck and arms. She felt a section of the top of her scalp tighten. 

“North Campus in the Med-Ed Department.”

“I’ll be there shortly. Thank you, Detective.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” He replied. She listened to him hang up the phone before slowly setting down the headset. 

* * * *

At the scene, in a crouch, Honey looked over the corpse. It was one thing for a random victim to be horrifically murdered but an entirely other for it to be personal. The open cavity of his chest where the organs were once held were lined with shredded flesh as lace. She put a handkerchief over her mouth and nose, disgust not only written in her expression but also in the nausea that ensued. Supposedly, the murder took place within a period of twenty-four hours. 

They were looking for the last person to supposedly have been with him; Dr. Patrick Caraway. 

Dr. Dumont’s insides looked as though they were eaten by a wild animal. That or yanked out piece-by-piece. It would have been easy to entertain the idea that he wouldn’t have been conscious during the extraction — but reality wasn’t always so kind.

She fought back the burn of tears in her eyes. 

“Do you know what these symbols on the walls and around the body mean?”

“They’re nothing like I’ve ever seen before,” Honey replied, “But just because they’re atypical doesn’t mean they wouldn’t mean something. They look something similar to the letters of witches… Yet with their own spin. These signs could simply be hyper-sigils.”

“…Hyper —…Sigil?” Detective Ronsor blinked, expecting an explanation.

“Okay, so, you know what a sigil is, right?” She asked, taking a breath and pressing her hands against the tops of her thighs to push herself back to standing.

“Would I be asking if I knew?” He snipped.

“Sorry,” she quickly apologized, “Could you hand me your notepad and pencil, please?”

“Sure,” he replied, “But this better be good.”

“Okay, so you have an intention for magick and write it down,” Honey started.

_I want a new bicycle._ She wrote on the pad. “Then you cross out the vowels.”

“After that,” she continued, crossing out said letters, “You cross out the common letters and when you’re left with about four or less consonants, you draw them into a form.”

“…Yeah?” He watched, curiously. 

“And then you create a symbol out of the letters like this — you charge them with energy by focusing to a point on your intention — and _wah-lah!_ Hyper-sigil.”

“That was too complicated for me to care for,” he admitted, “And I want to know how it applies to our victim.”

“I’m not sure yet,” Honey nodded, “From here it looks like the safe was broken into. The murderer obviously knew his way around the lab and had a single goal in mind because that was the only thing that he touched.”

She went over to the safe and to see the lock was busted and the door was ajar. Papers were strewn out of it like a waterfall. What on earth was the perpetrator looking for?

“We wanted to question his partner, Dr. Caraway, but he’s missing. Might have skipped town on us.” He exhaled hard through his nose, taking one last glance at the crime scene. 

“So, he’s a person of interest?”

“For now he is. I have a couple of guys asking around campus to see if anyone has noticed anything out of the ordinary.”

“How long has the body been here?” Honey shifted her weight from one foot to the other. 

“CSI said three hours — but it smells like it’s been here a week,” he replied, “I don’t get it. Are the markings Satanic?”

“Not everyone who practices hypersigils are Satanists — but we can’t rule it out. Generally, Chaos Magicians are the ones who do this kind of magick. The body was obviously shredded by something otherworldly — considering I don’t see any tools around that could have done this. I’m assuming they summoned a _Goetia_ to do their bidding.”

“Go Getchyer what?” He asked, stammered confusion in his eyes.

“ _Go-Etty-Ah_ ,” Honey corrected.

“And what exactly is that?”

“It’s a class of demons,” she replied, “there are twenty-two demon Lords and three Gatekeepers. There are also hordes of demons below them. All of these are the Goetia.”

“I came as soon as I heard!” Both turned to see Sue-Ellen walk through, her high heels clanking on the white and gray marbled floor of the lab. 

“You sure you wanna see this?” Honey stared in concern. 

“I have to I.D. the body, don’t I? Since I’m next of kin?” Sue-Ellen quipped. When she saw the body she jerked to a stop, in shock. What came next was the expression of despair. Sue moved to Honey and pressed her face into that comforting shoulder that was often there. 

“Yes,” Sue-Ellen wept, “Yes, it’s him.” 

She couldn’t contain herself, so Honey wrapped her arms around her and held her. 

“It’s about time we left. I’ll come back to you with more information,” Honey told the detective, leading her friend away, “Keep my mobile number close by. I want to be updated with anything you find.”

“You got it.” Ronsor’s brows pressed together in that all-familiar look of guilt mixed with pity at the fact that he was helpless to stop the pain of a victim’s loved ones. 

* * * *

“Thanks for that,” Sue-Ellen said as she pressed a hand to her chest, leaned against the door frame, and took in several deep breaths in an attempt to prevent hyperventilating. 

“Any time, babes.” Honey replied, looking out. Evening was getting closer. There were dark clouds spread across the expanse of the sky. She stared out at the pouring rain. They were protected from the elements because there was an overhang just above them. Little did she know that the night would take a turn for the worse. In a way that she couldn’t yet fathom. “How’d you get here?”

“I came by cab.” Sue-El replied solemnly.  
  
The chill in the air and the smell of the river was something all-too-familiar to Honey. When they’d left for college together they decided to leave state. Neither of them finished college in their younger years — so as adults they went and after graduation decided to move back home and open the business. Even so, Honey remembered as a younger adolescent that her and her foster siblings were often neglected. Such was commonplace in those days, she figured. Often, they went to the library or other place where they weren’t shunned. It was free and no one minded — so long as they were quiet and didn’t create trouble. 

To think another little girl, who experienced the same things Honey did in childhood, had to lose her life because of a mishap _she_ made in the early years of paranormal investigatory work — crushed the would-be detective to the core. The thought of that loss caused her to curtail all the blame onto herself. It was then that Honey attempted to take her own life, in amends, for what she caused. Even so, she was grateful to her sorrow — for without it she wouldn’t have met one of her soul-mates… _Sue-Ellen._

Presently, though, when Sue-Ellen was done hunching over like she’d vomited out an awful night before, she stood and hugged her friend tightly. So tightly, that her nails practically dug into the back of the leather jacket. Granted, it didn’t hurt at all — but the gesture was understood. 

“I just heard,” they turned to see Hank walking toward them, “Sorry about your Dad, sweets.”

A nerve in Sue’s eye twitched. He knew better than to call her _‘sweets’_. 

“I’m looking for my Dad, speaking of. You seen him?” He asked, pushing back some of his damp, dark locks. He stood about five inches taller than the two.

“You’re not the only one looking for him,” Honey started, “So are the police.”

“Figures.” Hank replied, “You seen Andrew?”

“No. If you see him can you tell him I still have his pack of smokes in my bag?” Honey said.

“You should throw them away,” Hank replied, “I already told him he should quit smoking — and you shouldn’t start.”

“If you’re so adamant about my lungs then you should have the same sentiment about your liver.” Honey shot back.

“Whatever.” The familiar text _bing_ went off on his phone. He didn’t even bother to look at it, hinting that he already knew what it said. “I gotta go.”

“Don’t you at least want to talk to Detective—” Sue-Ellen said but was interrupted:

“Later.” And off in the rain he went.

“Dude didn’t even bring an umbrella.” Honey said, watching him go.

“What are we supposed to do now?” Sue-Ellen asked dejectedly.

“Follow whatever leads we can,” Honey replied, “So far, the only thing missing from your Dad’s stuff is his journal. All he had in there were poems and writings I figured were for the novels he was writing. He had a few spells in there but I thought they were for self-improvement purposes? What’s so important about that journal that the murderer would steal it and it only?”

“He always was very protective of that journal,” Sue-Ellen shook her head, and turned to her friend, “So much, that we were probably the only two to have read it.”

“Unless he shared it with his partner, Dr. Caraway.” Honey continued.

“But they were close. Why on earth… There’s no way Pat would have murdered my Dad. It’s absurd.”

“And yet all the evidence is pointing at him. It doesn’t help his defense that he’s nowhere to be found.”

“I have to go home. I’m feeling sick to my stomach.” Sue-Ellen’s hand went to her gut, “And Hank was acting _weird…_ ”

“I’ll go get the car and pick you up. I’ve got some notes I took from his journal at the apartment.” 

* * * *

It had to have been a dream. All of it. There was no way her father was dead — _no way…!_

She scrunched her face up before opening her eyes, steadying her vision at the ceiling. It was dimly lit. Adjacent to the bed she was lying in, Sue-Ellen saw Honey sitting next to her. 

“Holy!” Honey cried, “I was so worried about you, Sue-El! Don’t scare me like that.”

“…Just what the hell is going on?” Sue-Ellen pushed herself up to sit with a groan, looking around. It was an unfamiliar place. 

“Your question is about as good as mine,” Honey replied, “We’re… Uh… Not in Kansas anymore.”

“Please stop joking and just tell me what happened,” Sue-Ellen snapped, “I had a dream Dad got murdered…”

Sucking a breath in through her teeth, Honey sat back in her seat and sighed through the her nose. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news but — …Roger was, indeed, murdered. You don’t remember going to the apartment and finding Hank, Andrew, and Anne there? We spied on them as they did this weird ritual out of your Dad’s journal and disappeared in a flash of light. You remembered something incredible about your childhood and we did the same thing and ended up here.”

“Where are we?” Sue-Ellen looked around.

“We’re in Ben Kenobi’s efficiency.” Honey replied.

“…That name is —” Then with widened eyes she asked, “You don’t mean _the_ Ben Kenobi?”

“We _Jumped._ ” 

Bringing her legs over to the side of the bed, Sue pushed the covers off of her and stared at the floor between her bare feet. About six seconds passed before she could hear traffic just outside the window. Sue-El’s sights went to that as she stood out of the bed and leaned over to look out the window. There was a chain linked fence with trees and brush standing in the way — but she could still see. It was daylight. From the looks of it outside, it was rush hour for lunch. She watched the traffic and people walking on the sidewalk.

The apartment shook and there was a whistle in the air. She turned to look out the open door into the hallway. There was a smaller window across it that was maybe a head higher than her height. Through it, she could hear a train go by. 

“That’s impossible. Isn’t Ben Kenobi from space?” She asked in shock, turning her attention back to Honey. 

“I thought about it,” Honey started, “And I think we goofed up. While we were taking our time trying to figure out my notes on how to Jump, we left a Starbrokes cup of coffee in the circle — and ended up in an alternate universe where the story revolves around a cafe. Like a fanfiction AU?”

A lump seized in Sue’s throat. It felt as though she could barely breathe. She sat back down on the bed with a slight bounce, an open hand to her chest, and shook her head.   
“I’m sure your memory will come back to you at the right time.” Honey said, hoping to soothe her. 

Was she _sure_ she wanted that piece of memory back, though?

* * * *

Something changed. Even though Thrawn never purported to ever be _Force-sensitive_ , he could feel a cool, fresh breeze. He lifted his chin from resting on his fist. There was no draft to observe at the space port he resigned himself to and at first he considered it being a flicker of imagination until he could feel a burn in his chest. 

Destiny may have been closer than he’d anticipated. 

Thrawn inhaled deeply then sighed. It was strange to wear civilian clothing rather than the standard Admiral’s uniform. They didn’t even give him the liberty to choose to wear anything similar to what he’d had before. The attire he chose made him feel like an old man. 

Just where the devil did someone like him go? When did someone like him dare take holiday? All he ever focused on were physical training and studying of war and art. What was life outside the Navy?

He was too stubborn to ask help from Commander Vanto. In fact, he left without saying goodbye — which probably left his colleague confused. Even Vanto was left out. All he knew, as did everyone, was that the Admiral had left to recover from a “health condition”. It wasn’t like Thrawn to shut him out, though, considering how close they’d gotten as comrades the last years. This was something the Chiss felt he needed to do alone — because that’s how he felt. Utterly alone. 

As he sat, he was hunched over, his fingertips pressed together in front of him in intense thought. Between the opening of his arms, he scaled the small patch of marble beneath his feet and sighed again. He’d been sitting there three hours — and it wasn’t even waiting for a craft! In fact, all he did was sit there and people watch. For the first time in his life resolution escaped him. He honestly had no idea what he wanted to do with his spare time. There was no clever strategy to enact. No solving his problem. 

Nothing came to him. 

His elbows rested on his knees and his legs bounced a bit. He was truly at a loss.

Maybe it was the hormones. Maybe it was the first time he’d been left with enough idle time to realize how infinitesimally small he really was in the big scheme of things — and of the shuddering loneliness of the entire fiasco. These things were left on the back-burner of his mind. 

Soon, he had to make a decision. Otherwise, he’d spend his entire sabbatical at the space port to have made no progress. Three choices; go on this mandatory excursion, commit suicide, or be killed by his superiors. It was enough to make the Chiss sweat. Typically, his pride would tell him to make the most difficult choice so he could advance on his opponent as quickly as possible. However, the only opponent here was his mind and the biological clock ticking down. His instinct was to run — but a warrior’s pride would not allow it. 

It took everything in him to stand and walk toward the information desk.

“And how may I help you, sir?” The receptionist asked.

“Give me three pamphlets of your worst trips.” He pushed down the awkward feelings into the pit of his stomach.

“Why the worst?” She asked.

“I just want them.” 

“All right. Your funeral.” And she handed him two small devices. Pressing a button on each, a _holo-desktop_ popped up with advertisements of what he asked for. He tapped on a button to open one of the applications and meticulously went through them. 


	3. 03 Full Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sue wakes up in Ben Kenobi's apartment in a Cafe AU fanficverse with Honey. We learn the truth about Honey's abilities and of the Multiverse Theory. They end up on Ben's Uncle Qui-Gon's farm so Sue can charge under the full moonlight so they can Jump again and follow their prime murder suspects: Hank and company. Thrawn lands on Imaga-Rhun for his vacation.

**Remembering Tomorrow**

**Where My Heart Is**

**_The Tale of the Life-Mate_ **

**03 Full Moon**

**“** **S** orry, I’m late,” Ben said as he hung up his keys and closed the door behind him. Over his arm was a green apron. He wore a dark pine polo shirt tucked into black straight-legged jeans. On his feet were matching Converse sneakers.

“Apology accepted,” Sue-Ellen said.

“Oh, so I see you’re awake.” Even if it were a cafe Alternate-Universe, Ben still had that smooth English accent that could melt a girl’s nether-regions. Sue tried to contain herself, but she lightly shuddered in delight, as if secretly, and sat up in bed. 

“Do tell me again what happened?” Ben continued, “Things happened so fast yesterday that I doubt you were of the right mind to explain properly, Miss Honey.”

“Sue said that her Dad’s Amulet was missing,” Honey said.

“Yeah, the one I had to charge under each full moon for three months,” Sue-Ellen replied, “He said it was my mother’s. I don’t understand why he asked me to do that. Especially, now, since all of this went down. At first, I honestly thought he just didn’t have time to do it himself with his schedule at the lab and that it was for protection or personal power — like we’ve been using stones for years. I had no clue.”

“Well, what happened was incredible and frustrating at the same time,” Honey admitted, “We went home after seeing Hank on campus. From there, we saw that the lock on the back door to the apartment complex was busted and went on in. There, from the kitchen, we spied on Hank, Andrew, and Anne who were in the living room doing some weird ritual out of Dr. Dumont’s journal. 

"What he wrote in there I thought was either metaphorical or what he wanted to put into a fictional novel he was working on,” Honey continued, “I didn’t think it was a literal _ritual_.”

**The Evening Before**

“Shhh…!” Sue-Ellen stopped Honey before she charged into the living room of their upstairs apartment. 

“But these jerks broke into our home and —” Honey whispered loudly. 

“I have a weird feeling about this. Just trust me and stay quiet.” 

The space had already been cast — with salt on the floor drawn in a circle and candles lit. Hank, Andrew, and Anne were inside the circle with Sue-Ellen’s favorite comic book and film memorabilia. _Star Wars._ Honey and Sue saw the house was ransacked from where they were. Just what the hell were they doing?

“Are you sure this is gonna work?” Anne whined, “And I don’t wanna hold the amulet. It’s got an eerie feeling to it. You take it.”

She held the piece of jewelry out to Andrew and he gave a guttural sigh. 

“Just shut up.” He snatched it out of her grasp.

“Would you two just quit fucking arguing? We need to focus for this to work.” Hank snapped. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Anne replied sarcastically. Hank smacked her across the face. The sound of the slap made both Honey and Sue flinch. 

In defeat, Anne zipped her mouth and held the side of her face. With as hard as he hit her, it started to bruise under her hand.

“Says we gotta shine the light on the gem in the amulet into a mirror and…” Hank, being the leader, recited the spell but quietly — as though he didn’t want the other two to hear him. Which was like him — he wanted to know all the incredible secrets, hold high status in whatever group he was in, and basically manipulate everyone around him. All he wanted them for was the grunt work. 

In the tall, body mirror they confiscated from Sue-Ellen’s room, the light of the emerald was reflected in it and started to grow. Instantly, there was an immeasurable flash and a loud clap of thunder that shook the apartment. The heroines were then blinded and thrown back onto the kitchen floor. 

“Just what the hell!” Honey cried, covering her eyes. 

“Damn, I didn’t think it would blind us! I was expecting more smoke and mirrors — not the _Lord-God-King-Boofu of camera flashes!_ ” Sue-Ellen rolled over the tile, trying to feel her way around.

All the other did was groan and writhe where she was, feeling around for her glasses. ****

**Present in Ben’s Apartment**

“Then after that, we took a few hours looking over the notes I copied from your Dad’s journal,” Honey continued, getting out of her chair and walking over to the stove. All Ben had was an efficiency, so the miniature stove, fridge, sink, and bed were all in the same room. Luckily, there was a small bubble into the wall for a private restroom. He had to shower at the local gym. When she got to the stove, the kettle started whistling. It seemed that intuitive nudge still worked. 

Before the screeching noise could develop into an nuisance, she turned off the burner and poured cups of tea for them. 

“We took hours trying to decipher just what Mr. Dumont said in his writings. What the heck did Hank know that we didn’t?” She placed the cups on a tray and came to the bed and set it on the nightstand. “But there was a song you sang… You said it was a play from your childhood that you couldn’t remember the title of. That you had a specific dance with it from long ago…”

Sitting there, Sue-Ellen stared down at her lap. With her shaky, frightful eyes, she took in the details of the folds of the blanket, the shadows that the natural light the window produced, to each feathered detail of the felt, to the hem that was sewn and each individual stitch. It was like she was staring directly into every strand, every fiber of the blanket, straight down to the vibrating atoms and eventually to its core — the energy that lay within, available to those who would only just _look_. 

Under her breath, she recited the beginning of the song in a slow tempo, then her voice climbed every so slowly — still, yet a whisper, though. 

_My Soul is not here, it is there_

_An imagined place, with a different air_

_I think I go there when I sleep_

_Until I wake, and then I weep_

_Is it real or only dream_

_A city shines with starlight’s gleam_

_A baby laughs, a soft wind blows_

_More real than anyone knows_

_Today it’s time to part the veil_

_To find the Truth behind the tale_

_Follow my heart to where it resides,_

_To find myself, and love, and more besides_

“Beautiful song,” Ben replied softly, “Did you write it?”

“I think part of it my mother wrote… And what I couldn’t remember I pretty much ad-libbed,” Sue-Ellen said, her sights rising from the world of atoms back to reality. 

“Yep. And then we disappeared into the light — …Just as Hank and them did.” Honey nodded. “Do you want cream in yours, babe?” 

“Yes, please,” Sue-Ellen replied. 

Ben rolled the computer chair across the floor, just over the small rug, and sat down in it near the bed, “I understand this must be hard for you to take in.”

“I remember everything now. Thanks, you guys.” Sue-Ellen watched as Honey poured in the liquid creamer and stirred the contents of the cup together. 

She gratefully took the drink and blew on it before taking a sip. 

“And you?” Honey asked their host. 

“Cream, too, and a single spoonful of sugar.” He replied, seeing her smile as she fulfilled his order. 

“I see you didn’t put any tea in your cup,” He watched her, “You’re probably a coffee drinker. I don’t have any right now other than the small jar of instant. I hope that’ll be enough.”

“It’ll do just fine. In the cabinets, right?” She asked, handing him his cup.

“Yes,” he replied, “On the high second shelf closest to the window.”

“The notes said that it depletes the energy of the Amulet in order to Jump… That one would have to charge it under the full moon,” Honey said, “Do you think that would apply to Sue-Ellen?” 

“I depleted my personal energy,” Sue-Ellen responded, “So, the same may just apply to me.”

“The full moon isn’t for another couple of weeks,” Ben noted.

“And I would need the brightest exposure to the moonlight,” Sue-Ellen said, “Remember, Papa and I lived in the country just outside of town? He used to tell me to charge objects under the moon there because all the light pollution in the city would negate the effect. And it took three full moons at the apartment in order to get a full charge.”

“You’re right. Where could we go to ensure that happens?” Honey went to the counter to fix herself a cup of instant coffee.

“We couldn’t just go anywhere,” Sue-Ellen replied, “Anybody could call the police.”

“But we could sneak around, right?” Honey turned after preparing her drink and took a sip.

“To make things easier,” Ben said, “My Uncle Qui-Gon owns a piece of property out in the boonies. It has a lake and everything. I could call him up to see if we could stay with him. I’ve been meaning to contact him.” 

“What about your work?” Sue-Ellen asked.

“I need to use up my vacation time before the end of the year or it expires,” he replied, “Uncle Qui-gon could always find something for us to do while we’re there. He’s always looking for extra help. There’s next to nothing here in the city unless you have money to fling around.”

“He’s got a point,” Honey said to Sue-Ellen, finger-gunning her with a wink.

“How do you know if…” Sue’s eyes strayed over to Ben. 

“I can give him a call right now,” he said.

“Is this something we want to do?” Honey asked.

“Yes. Absolutely,” Sue replied, “And think! We might just be able to go swimming. We’ll need swimsuits, though.”

“If it’s swimsuits you’ll need I’m sure I can find something for you,” Ben replied, “So, is it a go?”

“Yes,” Sue replied, “Let’s do this before I talk us out of it.”

*** * * ***

As soon as he stepped off onto the landing pad, Thrawn knew there was something amiss. What with the whistle of missiles going through the air, the dust and dirt clouds caused by dropped bombs, the loud tapping of automatic artillery going off, lasers blasters from both rifles and ships in the air, and the roar of aircraft flying close to the ground — Thrawn now understood why it was one of the least desirable places to go. 

It was chaos. Absolute chaos. _They were in a bloody civil war!_

“…Well, _blast._ ” He said, his hands firmly grasped onto the handles of his suitcases. Before he could turn around, the craft that brought him there already buzzed away. They were smart enough to not stay long.

_Welcome to Hell._

Time to find that little hostel he booked. 

If it survived the rainfall, that is.

*** * * ***

During the week, the heroines earned their keep at Uncle Qui-Gon’s. The hardest part, aside from all the yard work and dealing with animals, for Honey was getting up at 4:30 am every morning. She was used to her alarm going off at 9 am to get ready to work her part-time job and then to keep a business during the evening up into the wee hours of the morning.

The first couple mornings the pure, black coffee tasted awful and she was feeding the chickens half asleep while Sue was as perky as ever gathering eggs. Granted, they weren’t given heavy work — but enough to bide their time until the full moon. This was all worth it, Honey told herself, so long as they could solve this case before Hank and flunkies caused more trouble rippling the inter-dimensional time-stream. All of this was giving her a headache. 

Even more so than when she forced herself to block her third-eye chakra to forget her memories of future events. Yet, alongside her skills in Empathy, Honey was able to experience, at least on a surface level, time in a different way than those who lived linearly. She had to force her soul to stay in a single spot. It was part of the mindfulness skills she learned from Sue-Ellen — who’d also had similar gifts but in different ways. 

The cost of forcing herself to forget were frequent headaches. If it weren’t for Sue — her accountability partner — Honey would dive headfirst into a series of addictions. Granted, she ate more than she probably needed to — but at least she wasn’t a drug addict, right? No opioids? No heroin? No alcohol? That justified her eating addiction, right? Maybe not. It was something in the back of her mind that she didn’t want to deal with. 

Making up in rigorous work-outs was justification enough, right? If she could keep up with a work-out schedule, that is. 

Doing her best to try to maintain her figure would get her a nice boyfriend, right? 

_Probably not._ And that was _exactly_ why she ate.

Why was she thinking about this — this early in the damn morning? With a single hand, Honey pinched her side to see how thick her abdomen roll was. This only proved it. She was pudgy. No one would want her now. If only there were a Starbrokes nearby, she wouldn’t have to suffer half-sleeping through her morning chores. She could drown herself in quality coffee so she wouldn’t ruminate over the reality that she was going to _die alone._

“Fuck this chore shit,” she mumbled as a gander approached her, sniffing her pants. Being angry, she threw kernels at it. It honked loudly before biting her. “Ow! Holy shit! You _turd!_ ”

“Honey, _NO!_ ” Sue-Ellen cried as she came out of the chicken coop. The gander chased Honey around the lawn as she wailed and cried. Well, she was certainly awake now!

“ _Aaaugh!_ SUE HELP ME!!” Honey screeched as she jumped the fence. The winged predator simply flew over the wire and continued after her. 

“You idiot!” Sue put a hand to the side of her face and sighed. 

Ben came to witness the scene, chuckling. “You didn’t tell her, did you?”

“I thought she would know.” Shaking her head, they started laughing together.

*** * * ***

“Camping was such a great idea!” Honey said, sitting in her folding chair on the bank of the lake, “And it is _so_ totally cool that your Uncle let us stay here. Man, I was getting tired of doing stuff all the time. It was like I never got a chance to relax.”

“Of course, you didn’t, goofy,” Sue replied, “Instead of sitting with us on the porch in the evening having sweet tea you were inside in bed playing games on your phone and complaining about the reception. I know it’s hard for you to stay focused but jeez.”

“And we’re here now, though,” Ben intercepted before an argument brewed, “I’m quite glad.”

“I’m glad you’re glad,” Sue-Ellen smiled, sipping at her tall can of lemon tea. 

“I’ll be glad when I can catch a damned fish!” Honey whined.

“Just have patience!” Sue puffed up her cheek. 

Her friend barked something back and the dispute he tried to prevent just boiled over. Ben simply smiled and shook his head. His gaze went from them to his fishing pole to the lake. Their trifle turned into background noise now that he was listening to the nature around them humming. He felt somehow connected to it. Like there was a piece of himself he was forgetting — and his being here was artificial. The land and the water whispered to him — calling for him. That was the feeling of most kids in college, though, right? Was this normal?

The hour of the evening would be soon upon them. All he could do now was just enjoy the moment of his company. He turned his head to get a better glimpse of Sue-Ellen. Somehow, he noticed her beauty more strikingly then. Was it her? Was it her that he was missing? His eyes softened as he watched her squabble with her best friend. While things with his Uncle Qui-Gon were good — he felt like this kind of family was just the thing he was missing. 

However, that was how all these stories went. All of life, perhaps. With a puzzle piece that needed to be retrieved and placed in just the right spot to make the picture a whole. But then again, puzzles were cut apart purposely to be put back together — but strangely, enough, there were still cracks all throughout. Which was probably how things were meant to be — at least, metaphorically. 

His hand went to his five o’clock shadow. It was starting to lighten up into red again under the summer sun. Because Sue-Ellen came along, he had a reason to trim his beard thinner and clean it up. No longer was it the scraggly behemoth it once was. In fact, a lot of things about his behavior changed that inspired the change in his appearance. She had a way to make him start caring about life again.

Mayhaps. To any thinking person, their story would have sounded absurd. In fact, even Ben was half inclined to not believe them. Tonight, though, would be the defining moment that would either prove or debunk the validity of their story. 

*** * * ***

“Well, it’s almost time to rock and roll,” Honey grinned ear to ear as she lowered her stick into the fire. It had a hot dog on the other end. Was gonna get her yummy relish and spicy brown mustard on a bun with it once it was done cooking. “You think you’re ready, babes? And do you think it’ll really work?”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Sue replied, “Of course, it’s going to work. My Papa wasn’t daft — and we made it this far, didn’t we? Imagine all the other stuff we’ll be able to do once we get a hold of his journal again.”

The thought of her father’s death caused her chest to sink. All of this because of someone’s envy of his knowledge and skills. It was an honest shame. Hank must have been involved somehow — since it was the journal they were after. Still, witnessing their disappearance was the only lead they had. That, and when they Jump again — who knows if they would be able to trail them? And what about Hank’s father? How was he involved and why did he suddenly ghost them? Presumably, the two doctors were best friends. They’d known each other for decades. Just how was all of this connected? 

There was a serious moment of silence between them. Ben and Sue’s eyes met and he slowly nodded. Seeing this, all Honey could do, uninvolved in the connection, was avoid looking at them into the bonfire with a pained smile. 

So, it was decided. They were going to go through with this, find Hank, confront him, and then figure out a way to go home. Their newfound ally was just icing on the cake.

“I’m going out to the lake. Make sure he doesn’t peek, Honey!” Sue smirked as she got up and left the party. Ben was facing in the opposite direction she left in. 

“Sure thing!” Honey replied as she winked at Ben. 

His reaction was a blush as he cleared his throat into his fist. 

“So, uh,” he started — trying to avoid the inevitable conversation, “Tell me a bit about where you are from. I’ve never heard the term ‘Jumping’ or ‘trans-dimensional travel’ before.”

“Well, it’s a world similar to this,” Honey replied, “and this is the first time I’ve heard these words, too. For me, though, anything like this would be something that belonged in a science fiction novel. This is unreal, for sure.”

“I agree. Indeed.” 

A lump settled itself inside Honey’s throat. According to her world, Ben was a fictional character. He’d been set in a movie franchise and graced several novels. How was she to tell him that? But the question really was: How would _she_ feel if she were told _she_ didn’t exist? But was a fictitious archetype in the mind of an author? It would kill her spirit — that’s what it would do! The utmost form of existential invalidation. She would never want to put someone else through that kind of heartache. 

She would just keep that topic under wraps as long as she possibly could. Forever if possible. If he asked any further questions on it she could either claim ignorance — or come up with a bullshit story so good that he’d have no choice but to buy it. Honey was terrible at bullshit — so here was a prayer that the topic would never come up. 

“Sue said you’re clairvoyant?” He asked. _Perfect!_ Get the topic off of him and ease the suspense.

“I’m clairsentient.” Honey replied. 

“What does that mean? You’re still psychic, right?” He pressed.

“It’s a form of psychic ability,” She nodded with a stretch in her seat, “It means I can feel the energy of other people. I can easily tell how a person is feeling — whether it’s in person, over the phone, over the chat-line or in an email, and in letters. I just pick up that sort of energy.” 

“Interesting.” He nodded, stroking his beard again, “And Sue?”

“She’s a psychometrist. All she has to do is feel an object to get a feel of what it is and its historical significance. She receives visions as well.”

“Incredible.” He grinned knowingly. 

Honey kept her tongue about experiencing her life nonlinearly — having that familiar headache boom behind her brow. Right smack dab in the middle of the third-eye chakra she sought to block. Only during readings would she let the lotus wheel turn, if only a little, but once she was seeing her own life in the future, she nipped it in the bud and went back to ignoring it. If anything, it was probably the one thing that was negatively affecting her mental health as of late. 

That, too, was a secret. Kept even from Sue-El.

“ _So_ ," Honey smirked, taking a sip of her coffee that was drowned with flavored creamer and continued with: “You and Sue-El?”

“What about us?” Ben blinked innocently. 

“…Oh, you are _too_ pure,” she went on, shaking her head slowly, “You _really_ don’t know what I’m talking about?”

“Um…” He thought about it. A little harder than he should have. All of which caused even more confusion than he’d had to begin with. This woman was certainly tricky.

Honey shook her head and sighed loudly. She sat in one of the folding chairs they’d pulled over to the campfire and rested her elbows on top of her thighs, sipping at her delectably frothy drink. It was thanks to the cappuccino mix he’d suggested she’d bring, too. She would have asked him to make it for her — but she leaned against that decision because she knew he was already doing enough for them by bringing them out here. Later on, she may have even appreciated staying on Qui-Gon’s farm, too. Though, now, no matter how much she showered she just couldn’t get the smell of barnyard off of her skin no matter how much she scrubbed. 

“ _You know…?_ ” She grinned at him. Bailey could easily have turned this conversation into a joke but she really didn’t want him to think she was teasing him. It was the very last thing he needed.

He said nothing in return.

“Fine. Gods!” Honey puffed up her cheek. Exhaling, she said exasperated: “Are you romantically interested in Sue-Ellen?”

Ben turned as red as an apple and gave a very audible gulp. 

“ _I KNEW IT!_ ” Honey cried. 

All he could do in response was flail cartoonishly. 

Meanwhile, the very topic of their discussion was walking toward the bank of the lake about five yards behind them. Sue-Ellen looked over her shoulder shyly to make sure that none of them were peeping. They were positioned perfectly to face the bonfire _away_ from the water. 

Her surroundings were cool with a blue dim. The sheer moonlight kissed her skin. She could almost feel herself shimmering under its soft rays. 

One bare foot broke the first ripple of the water as she stepped in. The further she went in the more anxious she became. By the time the surface was at her knees she paused to take in a few deep breaths. This was nothing. She’d charged items under the full moon before. She wasn’t _not_ familiar with the moon or the archetypes associated with it. 

If this were all true then what exactly _was_ the problem?

Responsibility. It was the responsibility associated with this juncture in their lives. She was afraid of becoming a weapon. The last thing she wanted to be was an instrument for murder. That was when the image locked in the back of her mind came to the fore. Her father’s mutilated, dead body was in her vision once more. Once again, in her senses, she could smell the rancid air from the bloodied room of that decomposing body. 

Sue-Ellen closed her eyes tightly and brought her hands to her face. How dare she cry in front of Deity! There was no time for weakness. In order to get to Hank, she needed to show her most dominant and aggressive side. Absolutely no room to feel anything but the despair growing into rage. 

On those shoulders, she felt a cool, yet warm weight. They were hands as if illuminated in the moonlight. The hands of the Goddess. Bringing her hands down she realized something — without anything even said — that the only way to approach fear was with tender love. ”Working your Shadow” was something her father would talk about continuously but fell on deaf ears. She understood. That she had to see herself — even the nastiness of her personality… Much like Honey did — and to accept it completely. To say that this was her current reality and the reality of tomorrow was completely up to her. That she had to have faith that love would win in the end. 

All rage would do would bring down the entire party. She would be no better than Hank if she succumbed to hatred. 

That if she felt anger that it ought to be righteous — used for justice and not revenge. 

Releasing her duster, it flew off and hit the water. It floated away from her. She followed the translucent, silvery-white figure of the Goddess toward the center of the lake. Every inch of bare skin was exposed. She felt much calmer. This was how she would absorb the energy — from a place of wholeness. 

There, she opened her arms to receive the full moonlight, and her form began to softly glow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we definitely get more into Thrawn's story in the "traditional" Star Wars universe. The reason I use quotation marks around it is to emphasize the fact that this story isn't entirely on the canonical timeline and that with the events that would happen with the original characters/AU characters interacting with the EU/Canon characters would definitely throw things off. By the end of the story things are definitely going to be unhinged, you can bet your ass on it. Just wait for it. (:
> 
> Bring it.


	4. 04 Cigarette Pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Multiverse Theory is explored. Lucky Strike is for fuckboiz. Thrawn meets the leader of the resistance faction on Imaga-Rhun.

**Remembering Tomorrow**

**Where My Heart Is**

_**The Tale of the Life-Mate** _

**04 Cigarette Pack**

“ **I** dunno, Barist-Bro…” Honey squinted at him while rolling up her sleeping bag. “You’re gonna have to ask Sue about that. I’d love for you to come — but we definitely don’t need extra baggage, if you get what I mean. I’m pretty sure you guys can work it out, though.”

“I honestly don’t think I’d be that much of a bother,” Ben replied as he packed the rest of the pans. He’d already done up his sleeping bag and other gear that he had. His disagreement was evident by every move Bailey made. A city-girl like her barely making it on the farm? What would she do in a more urgent situation than this? An emergency? She was the very last to wake up — even after a good number of prompts from Sue. It seemed a little hypocritical, he thought. He’d make a more useful companion than her.

Then something in his heart stirred and reminded him that compassion meant more than efficiency in many aspects of life. He couldn’t help it, though, he wasn’t the type to stay resentful for very long. 

“Dude, I’m still hungry!” Honey cried as she stuffed her things into her messenger bag. She was still half-asleep and didn’t bother organizing anything as she usually did. Even the coffee tasted like ass that morning. She wasn’t typically this whiny. This was totally out of character for her. Watching those two be inconspicuously lovey-dovey made her sick to her stomach on top of the stress of everything going on. 

“You’re just going to have to wait for lunch, Honey,” Ben replied patiently. 

After an hour-long drive, they made it back to Ben’s apartment. 

If anything, Honey wished she could have something just like it — a connection, maybe? An attachment? Sue-El was the closest thing she had to a family. They were sisters. Was Honey jealous? Of all the people to envy it would be her best friend. She felt like a terrible person for feeling this way and it showed in her moodiness that morning.

Perhaps it was PMS and she was overthinking an imaginary defect in her character? She wasn’t so sure. She just really hoped that they could get to another Starbrokes before leaving because she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to cope with the rest of the day without a latte. The coffee mixture she had earlier just couldn’t compare and she felt it rude to ask Barist-Bro for a favor while he was off the clock. 

“What were you guys talking about earlier? I missed it earlier.” Sue-El came in, pulling her French-braided hair over her shoulder and tying a scrunchy at the end. 

“Ben wants to come with us,” Honey replied, “But I don’t know what to think of it. I mean, what are the consequences of bringing him with us?”

Sue took Honey’s hand into her own and excused them to the privacy of the restroom. “I wouldn’t talk too much about that.”

“About what? A fictional character? ‘Cause that’s what Ben is. He’s a —”

“There is no way he could be fictional if we see him in flesh and blood! Honey, this isn’t a dream. We are _really_ here and we _really_ have a mission here. We can’t just invalidate his existence because he was sprung from a writer’s mind.”

“A _second-hand_ writer’s mind. Remember, we’re in a _fanfiction_ not a canonical film.” Honey grumbled, “What if he met his canon self? Would they get along? Would they disappear because of some weird paradoxical universal laws?”

“I honestly don’t know, Honey. I don’t know.” Sue shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose while tilting her head down.

Honey would have paced the bathroom floor but it was barely big enough for a toilet let alone the two of them. 

“Why—” Honey started, “You have a crush on him, don’t you? I mean, he likes you too — but do you think that it’d be right to bring him home with us, too? I mean, would he disappear? Would people recognize him? Would the FBI and the Men in Black suddenly come in and take him away from you for experimentation and he would never see the light of day again? _Do you really want to put him through that?_ ”

Ben didn’t expect the argument would escalate the way it did. In fact, he didn’t expect to hear about his menial existence being put into question, either. He didn’t exist? He wasn’t real? This was all imaginary? 

He felt his head of hair practically turn to silver in an instant. He leaned his back against the wall and slid to the floor. Once sitting, he inclined his leg and rested his forehead against his knee. They had to be lying. He’d believed their story so far, though, didn’t he? Before they were arguing over his accompaniment — and now it was the legitimacy of his reality? 

That hurt boiled into anger. Ben thought they were his _friends_ — not the ones to judge over whether he was tangible or not. He was a _real person_ — with feelings, character flaws, strengths, intellect, carnal, physical _needs_. 

They weren’t going to put salt into his injury by bickering over this. He pushed himself up and walked around the room once to look over the items in the apartment that served as an outer identifier of himself and took in a sharp breath.

“ _You have no right!_ ” Ben hissed as he yanked open the bathroom door. Both girls jumped with tiny gasps. “You’re not allowed to make me feel like less of a human being by arguing your unfounded theories. You’ve read too many books about the implications of what you call “Jumping”! I’m going with you — _both of you_ — and if I disappear once I get there then by golly I’m going to do it — honorably — knowing that I helped — and I can die in peace. There is nothing left here for me. I _want_ to go.”

Both girls fell silent, looking down. There was a heavy air of shame between them. 

“We need to do this and now,” he continued, “Because I don’t want you to change your minds. These guys sound dangerous. If we told the authorities they would laugh and we’d be locked away in an asylum. I’m calling Qui-Gon to say goodbye.”

Without verbally answering Ben’s request Sue-Ellen replied otherwise in approval: “My body may be charged but how are we going to follow them at this point? It’s not like we have the franchise materials like they do. I mean, it’s a form of magic but even I’m not familiar with a lot of it. My father was the expert — I just helped him out here and there. Honey, you’re a witch, right?”

“The simplest way to follow or control a person’s situation is to have a lock of hair or a possession.”

“And we have neither of those.” Sue-Ellen sighed defeatedly. Ben moved to pick up the corded phone that hung on the wall to dial his uncle’s number. He spoke quietly in the background. Sue straightened her shoulders and looked at Honey, “Wait. Didn’t Hank tell you he wanted nothing to do with… Well, whatever it was you were talking about?”

“Yes! I have a pack of Andrew’s smokes.” Honey replied, “And it would take us directly to their location instead of ending up in millions of different possibilities of that universe.”

“Time to pack up.” Ben hung up the phone. 

* * * *

“What we’ve done is nothing short of miraculous,” Hank said, “This proves the _Multiverse Theory_ to be true. Since forever I believed it was something we’d find only in a science fiction paperback. It was in comics. Movies. Television. But because we made it here it’s proof that if we imagine it, even if it’s intangible, that it exists elsewhere in a different place and time.”

“Miraculous, huh?” Andrew asked, “And now that we’re here… What the heck are we supposed to do with this knowledge?”

“We’re going to sell it to the highest bidder,” Hank smirked and took another swig of his brandy. He swirled the liquid in the bottle then brought it back up to gulp down the rest. Lightly, he slammed it down on the table. “And whoever wants to blast a nuclear weapon on a competing country would do so with the safety of knowing they can bank elsewhere other than earth.”

Andrew replied: “And these universes might not exist in the same three-dimensional space but…”

**_Meanwhile:_ **

“…This is proof that other dimensions exist as we create and love them,” Sue-Ellen said, “They might not exist to us on our timeline and three-dimensional space but they exist in the minds of the people and the collective consciousness.” 

“Then let’s go before things turn to shit wherever they are,” Honey took out the pack of cigarettes from her book bag, “I always hated Lucky Strike, too.”

“Because you hate cigarettes in general?” Sue rose a brow.

“Naw. I hate them because they’re the perfect fuckboi staple and people smoke them to be ‘cool’ or ‘mainstream’.” Honey held out the pack to her friend.

“You always were sort of edgy, babe.” Sue-Ellen reached out and took them. 

“You wouldn’t want it any other way,” Honey smirked. 

Sue-Ellen smirked back, “Nope. Time to do some magicks and Jump right the hell out of here!”

“Let us,” Ben replied as he pulled the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder. He was starting to feel a bit better about the title of ‘fictional character’ because just listening to the theory set him at ease. It didn’t matter if he were created within the mind of a screenwriter or not. They were part of the mind, too. Whatever they would find out later would be incredible, he hoped. He really wanted to know if what he read about the ‘Divine Mind’ in Hermetic literature was really a thing.

Around them was the familiar circle of salt. The ritual had begun.

Sue held out the pack of cigarettes as Honey put her hand on hers — with Ben putting his over theirs. 

Having assumed leadership, Sue-Ellen started humming the familiar tune. When she got the tempo and fluctuations right, she started singing. The square of their hands started turning white and a beam of light shot up to the ceiling. Before them the flash was blinding and it felt like the floor had turned to gelatin. Soon, air was beneath their feet and they floated away in a _BOOM_.

* * * *

While sitting on his lonesome at the bar, Thrawn listened to the buzz of conversation amongst the patrons of the tavern. He’d already left his bags upstairs in his room of the hostel. Earlier, he was begged to help the resistance group overthrow the Sorceress. 

“I would have to understand the history and reason for rebellion,” he said to the crone who’d approached him, pressing the same request. She was an elderly woman. Too old to be bothered by civil war — and yet here she was. The woman would have done better for herself by being with her family and enjoying her retirement years but, alas, this was what war did. 

“The cause is to protect our people and those off-world. Terrorists came to power once the Sorceress was unleashed,” she explained in a wispy, hoarse voice. 

He listened to her story and took another drink. Gently, he set the glass down, loosely holding it between his fingers, and lazily turned in his seat to face the dining area. Thrawn drank terrible quality whiskey simply as a distraction so he wouldn’t have to ruminate over the reality that he was going to _die alone_. 

“Show me to the leader and we’ll figure things out from there.” He started. It wasn’t his place to help them. The Empire frowned on little planets that thought they had autonomy. They couldn’t be further from the truth. However, Thrawn’s values were different from his superiors — but he chose to emulate them for a distinct purpose. He had an oath to uphold. For now, at least. 

“I _am_ the leader,” the old woman said, “And the stones said someone with better military capabilities would be brought to me.”

She was also a Diviner? Indeed, this was getting interesting. He wouldn’t be allowed to relax his tactical muscles just yet. He smirked and took in another drink, watching the conversing, eating, and drinking of the smoky, dim room. Then he looked her in the eye. His sclera seemed to glow ever so slightly in the dimmed light. 

“Stones.” Even Thrawn didn’t completely buy the idea of divination. Most would use it as a way to extort money and power out of individuals. None were accurate and it was used as a spook and scam tactic. A charlatans’ craft.

However, he was ready to do something with his time. This wasn’t charity work. Not even close. He was going to do this because he was bored. If he flubbed up with the rush of hormonal imbalances then they would probably be more forgiving than his superiors. 

“I’m listening,” he said, “I think I may just benefit your cause.”


	5. 05 The Contest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sue and Honey enter a contest to earn some money so the trio can pay for a room at the hostel and for food for the evening. Honey, mistaking Thrawn for the leader of the resistance group on Imaga-Rhun, gives him a Tarot reading. Lemons. Eli comes to a stark revelation about his superior and comrade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive me for posting behind schedule. I've been tackling real life and medical issues. I'm doing good, otherwise. 
> 
> I'm so glad this is a fanfiction and not a literal piece I have to have a manuscript ready by a deadline for a publisher. Here's a hope you guys don't rescind our publishing contract, burn down my house, and repossess my car. lol I'm sure you guys aren't that gangster(though the fanboys might be... You never know...)
> 
> And I've realized that this story is an amalgamation or mash-up of storylines between the EU and the Disney Canon. According to Disney Canon, the beginning of this story takes place in the Marvel Thrawn comic series right before he receives his promotion to Grand Admiral and is sent to deal with the Rebel faction on Lothal - and right before the beginning of the 'Heir of the Empire' book where he has to start a campaign to find the Mad Jedi Clone and nab a pregnant Leia Organa-Solo... Who's ready to birth twins. I'll keep that part of the story intact - the part where she's pregnant with twins. All the other stuff is gonna be a mashup, really. And that would make sense, too, because when Hank et al Jumped from Sue and Honey's apartment they had nearly ALL of Sue's memorabilia - meaning the franchise items that contained both stories... Both Legends and the Disney canon. So, there's my justification for my poor planning in writing. It'll all make sense the further along we get. I'm hoping.
> 
> The voiceclaim I chose for Honey's song in this chapter is Sarah Geronimo(you should look her up on YouTube or Spotify - she's really good!) and the cover "It's All Coming Back To Me Now" was originally done by Celine Dion. 
> 
> And I'll be writing this fic so hard throughout quarantine that I probably won't even know when quarantine is over and Sue_Clover is gonna call me three months later, like, "Where the hell have you been?? People have been asking about you since quarantine was over."
> 
> "What do you mean quarantine's over?" I ask.
> 
> "It's been over three months ago."
> 
> Oh shit.
> 
> But yeah - if you're bored waiting for me to post chapters for this fic then go ahead and check out Sue_Clover's profile and see her works. She does stuff from Coco, to Doctor Who, to Good Omens and all kinds of good stuff. Her stuff isn't as lengthy as mine - but still sweet and bitter sweet and angsty and all in between. You'll really like it. Check her out. (:

**Remembering Tomorrow**

**Where My Heart Is**

_**The Tale of the Life-Mate** _

**05 The Contest**

**T** he Returners needed shaping up. Terribly. Thrawn learned that the original Royals that ruled Imaga-Rhun — their political cabinet included — were assassinated as a show of dominance by the terrorists who wanted to place their ‘Sorceress’ into power. From the sounds of it, he assumed she had to be a Sith or at least a Dark Force practitioner. Never had he heard of any Sith refer to themselves with such a lofty, obnoxious title. Sorcerers were about as real as witches and wizards — belonging in children’s fairy-tales. 

With him as their tactician he cleaned them up really well. Thanks to him The Returners reclaimed a segment of the Kingdom and were thinking of plans of how to stunt the enemy troops and what they needed to do to storm the Castle. 

Today was the last raid and when everything came to the fore — as Thrawn had envisioned it, seeing as he’d planned a good ten scenario possibilities that could impede them from their goal — and it would be this battle that would guarantee their victory. 

For the Chiss, failure wasn’t an option. 

* * * *

“There’s _gotta_ be a way for us to be to make some cash and find somewhere to sleep,” Honey stammered while Sue-Ellen looked around them in the dark. The holo-boards were flashing advertisements. There was gossip that the local resistance conquered the town but still had a few more spots to settle before getting to the castle and defeating the Sorceress. Despite all the reports the two didn’t feel safe. There might not have been military might lingering — but there was still gang violence everywhere. 

Unknowingly, when they reached Imaga-Rhun they were in the same building as Hank and his allies. However, because the room was crowded, their suspects exited, unaware they were trailed. Sue-El was under the impression the spell didn’t work exactly to plan — but gathering information, they did see that they made it to the correct universe, and that patrons of the establishment _did_ in fact see Caraway and company. So, that was a start. 

They were on the streets and strapped for cash. Honey was already chased off by a whack-job sidewalk psychic with a laser pistol. Apparently, they wanted to keep their charlatan ways well intact and didn’t need a “real” psychic to draw them out like roaches from the woodwork.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sue-Ellen chirped at her, stopping a few yards from the corner of a prostitution group, “That’s the thing with you, Honey. Your fear is going to keep you from seeing our breakthrough.”

“But I —”

“Shush. See this billboard?” Sue pointed out, “There’s a talent contest tonight at the local hotel. The prize is fifteen hundred credits. More than enough to help us for a while. Maybe you could sing for them.”

“Sing?” Honey tensed.

“I don’t think they would count a metaphysical gift as a ‘talent’ that could win any money,” Sue-Ellen replied, “You haven’t sang in a while. It’ll be good for you.”

The woman chuckled as she took a photo of the sign with her mobile device. 

“What’s so funny?” Honey sucked in a breath. 

“The skin of the woman in the ad is red but blue in the pic on my iPhone.”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Blue is going to be a very important color for us tonight.” Sue-Ellen pressed the power button to put the phone to sleep then tucked it into her pocket, “You coming or not?”

“I guess…” Honey followed her to the corner, careful not to bump into any of the sex workers and crossed the street with her and Ben after the light changed. 

*** * * ***

Only a week had passed since Thrawn was “promoted” to lead strategist of _The Returners._ Before he came they were up to their necks in water — …No, not water. 

_Acid_. 

The entire movement was hopeless prior to his arrival. 

Whatever. It was something to keep his mind sharp while taking his vacation. He was simply biding time before the inevitable fate of impotence. On the whole it got him thinking, though, that he was less concerned with unloading his seed than he was with having a bride. 

Thrawn was less concerned about adolescent fears of virginity — he just wanted a mate. A wife. And it was more than intercourse — it was the energetic bonding that came with it. When Chiss mated they initiated a psychic union with their partners. The only ones who were unable to do so were sociopaths — ones who couldn’t experience any kind of empathy with or for anyone — and he was far from that, despite the identity he projected to those around him. He might have been cold and calculated to a degree but it was because he needed to, to survive life with the Empire and the Ascendancy _—_ but who he really was… Well, that was suppressed. To such an extent, his learned personality made it almost impossible to have a sincere connection.

Not that he understood how intercourse or romance actually worked. His skills were honed in art psychology and military strategy — as he was a genius from an early age — whereas, his social graces were sorely lacking. It was enough to thoroughly deduce characteristics and anthropology of a person or society to predict their strengths, motives, weaknesses, and moves — in order to use these against them in a game of theoretical chess. These were the things Thrawn was a master at. 

Just because on the outside he was cold and critical — didn’t mean he was unable to empathize. He was just doing his job. He _was_ raised a commoner on Csilla, after all, so he understood the plight of those who were impoverished and marginalized. However, he’d nothing to prove to anyone in terms of compassion to anyone in the Imperial Navy. Nor did he expect it in return. It didn’t mean that he didn’t long for it. Not that he cared if his superiors or colleagues gave it to him. The only person he craved it from was his Life-Mate — _whoever she was._

While, he cared very much for the welfare and morale of his crew on the Chimaera — he never found himself even remotely attracted to any of them in a way that made a difference. Even before he’d received leadership of his own ISD and was climbing the ranks alongside Ensign Vanto, none in his field interested him. His comrade figured the Chiss was asexual. 

Xenophobia was protocol within Chiss society — so much that any fraternization with other species was strictly forbidden. Those who veered away from these laws were banished from Csilla — _an even worse crime than Mitt’hraw’nuruodo committed by suggesting preemptive strike!_

Thrawn did strike a deep, platonic friendship with Commander Vanto. Eli was the first, and the only one, willing enough to deal with the Chiss when he stowed away with the Empire’s scouts after having been discovered in exile. The only one who gave a single damn about him — even before he proved himself to be more than simply expendable to Emperor Palpatine.

At the moment, though, he sat at a table with a couple of men who considered him their “comrade” — their “friend” — as they were celebrating the current run of victory. Those who were in the arts decided to use their down time for some entertainment — and they wanted a talent show. A break from battle while the other men were outside patrolling the night to make sure their commemoration didn’t become a regret. That, and they were divvying up the resources such as weapons, batteries, food, and water. 

Honestly, Thrawn didn’t want to participate. All he really desired was to sit in his room and brood about his inevitable fate instead of enjoying what little time he had off during his vacation. What with all this “work away from work” — he may as well have never left his post! 

But, as the Fates would have seen, Thrawn was caroled out of his quarters by gentle force. 

He was hopeful that the alcohol content in his cup would be enough to erase his worries. The least he needed to do was over-think his purpose here. Closing his eyes, he sighed through his nose. With the dimming of the lights, he could almost feel himself become dizzy with the rush of the night. Perhaps he was pretending to forget. Or, perhaps, he was trying to remember. His whole life he felt like he was forgetting something and had no reasonable idea of what. 

The host took the stage and announced a last-minute newcomers in their talent contest:

“Our next, and last, guests of the evening are Miss Honey Bailey, on vocals, and Miss Sue-Ellen Dumont, on the piastrum. Tonight they are performing _“It’s All Coming Back To Me Now”._ Please enjoy our final act. Break a leg, ladies!” He outstretched his arms as they entered the stage. Sue-Ellen sat at the _piastrum_ — another term for _piano_. 

That was when Thrawn noticed _her_. 

Shyly, Honey came onto the stage. She adjusted the microphone likewise, unsure of whether she would sing or croak — _when dying wasn’t an option_ — considering she’d not taken to music in years. Her emotional turmoil sacrificed some of her talents. There were only minutes for a warm-up beforehand and she prayed that it did her well. 

Sue-Ellen also straightened her microphone, as she would be doing the background vocals.

Thrawn’s lazy eyes opened to awareness, staring in awe. He took in her form — which was a little wider than what he was accustomed to seeing. She had the thickest, most compelling structure. And that face of hers? Who was this diva? And why did he innately know her? 

Never in his life had he met her — let alone seen any _human_ like her — and somehow they knew each other. Even with the dimmed lights, her eyes casually met his, and she felt it. That jolt — a spark of electricity between them. They’d not even shared a single word and yet they instinctively knew everything of the other. It wasn’t in the essence of language or culture — but _souls_. Under the table, a tent formed in his pants. 

Sue-Ellen played the first cords, waiting for her partner to start. 

Closing her eyes, Honey tried to remember the lyrics. She was anxious. There was a long pause, causing her to miss the beginning of the song. 

Again, Sue played the cords.

It was almost like she would give up before even trying. 

Those same eyes opened, looking to the side. She knew the host was ready to pull her out by the cane if she screwed up. Honey looked at Sue and they both nodded. 

Once more, the cords played — and she began the song:

_…There were nights when the wind was so cold_

_That my body froze in bed if I just listened to it_

_Right outside the window_

_There were days when the sun was so cruel_

_That all the tears turned to dust_

_And I just knew my eyes were drying up forever_

_(Forever)_

The lyrics hit Thrawn to the core. As with the vocalist — there was a distant memory. One that hadn’t happened yet. 

_I finished crying in the instant that you left_

_And I can’t remember where or when or how_

_And I banished every memory you and I had ever made_

That last note was a strong one. What the song was referring to, on at least subconscious level, was the fact that she’d purposely blocked her third eye chakra so she wouldn’t have to remember the pain she was in from missing her lover who was in the far, distant future. So, she wouldn’t have to endure life without him. It was too painful for her to bear. There was, at least one point in her life, where she knew exactly who he was, how she came to meet him — and what their lives together were like, up until death. Every moment she’d experienced in her present, alongside the billions of possibilities from each choice they made — but in the end it was always _them_. 

_…But when you touch me like this_

_And you hold me like that_

_I just have to admit_

_That it’s all coming back to me_

And in the end, alongside fucking up one of her very first serious paranormal investigation cases — the one where it cost the life of a little girl — her suicide attempt was the direct result of being haunted by _nocturnal precognizance_ , of receiving bits and pieces of future events in snippet mental images rather than full memories, as the residual effect of blocking things out entirely. The headaches were getting worse from ignoring the images and not a soul knew. Not even Sue-Ellen.

_When I touch you like this_

_And I hold you like that_

_It’s so hard to believe_

_But it’s all coming back to me_

Whether it was noticed by the patrons, let alone Sue-El, the air rippled around her like rocks being thrown into water, and expanded throughout part of the viewing area. This phenomena never happened to her at home — and even she was oblivious to it.

_It’s all coming back_

_It’s all coming back to me now_

_There were moment of gold_

_And there were flashes of light_

_There were things I’d never do again_

_But then they’d always seemed right_

_And there were nights of endless pleasure_

_It was more than any laws allow_

Suddenly, Honey remembered a scene of a future event. She’d thrown herself from the rooftop of a building on an Imperial base, distraught from her engagement. An arranged marriage to someone she didn’t love. Once she was in the air, she twisted herself around so that she fell back-first toward the ground. Then, mid-leap, with her legs above her head, and petals of the flower she held floated away in slow motion — her forehead burst in a ray of light and a flock of doves pushed their way out, flapping around wildly in the air. Her experience snapped back to the present before her future self hit the ground. 

_Baby, baby_

_If I kiss you like this_

_And if you whisper like that_

_It was lost long ago_

_But it’s all coming back to me_

_If you want me like this_

_And if you need me like that_

_It was dead long ago_

_But it’s all coming back to me_

_It’s so hard to resist_

_And it’s all coming back to me_

_I can barely recall_

_But it’s all coming back to me now_

Although, without form, or color — the atmosphere popped and sparkled with unseen energy like fireworks going off around her. The heat could be felt even off stage. Sue-Ellen sensed it but didn’t bother to stop the show. Honey was doing so good! She was really into it.

_But it’s all coming back!_

Another memory came to her of the male sitting in the audience — _the hunk with blue skin_ — he’d worn a white uniform with a matching cape falling behind him on the bed as he sat with her. Distinctly, she saw his new rank pinned to the front of his shirt. That he’d taken time out of his busy schedule to visit her. They sat on her cot, close together. With a smile, he was introducing her to new food, and gently spoon fed her. She ate without question — the happiest she’d ever remembered being.

_But you were history with the slamming of the door_

_And I made myself so strong again somehow_

_And I never wasted any of my time on you since then_

She remembered Eli Vanto — a young man she’d yet to meet — Ben Kenobi, and Sue-Ellen, all of whom witnessed a successful ‘plot’ they’d formed around Honey and her future beloved — jumping up and down cheering near the indoor foliage they’d attempted to hide behind near the public lavatory. _Were they on Coruscant?_

_But if I touch you like this_

_And if you hold me like that_

_It was so long ago_

_But it’s all coming back to me_

_If you touch me like this_

_And if I kiss you like that_

_It was Gone With the Wind_

_But it’s all coming back to me_

_It’s all coming back_

_It’s all coming back to me now_

_There were moment of gold_

_And there were flashes of light_

_There were things we’d never do again_

_But then they’d always seemed right_

_There were nights of endless pleasure_

_It was more than all your laws allowed!_

_Baby, baby, baby!_

_‘All your laws allowed’_ referred to Imperial Protocol distinctively discriminating against fraternization between species. It was illegal. On Csilla, too. It was similar to the laws in 1950’s America preventing whites from marrying persons of color — and Honey completely related. It made her sad. 

_When you touch me like this_

_And when you hold me like that_

_It was Gone With the Wind_

_But it’s all coming back to me_

_When you see me like this_

_And when I see you like that_

_Then we see what we want to see_

_All coming back to me_

_The flesh and the fantasies_

_All coming back to me_

_I can barely recall_

_But it’s all coming back to me now_

The last of the song evoked a pang in her chest. Honey’s heart ached as the tempo slowed down and the music was nearing its conclusion. All of these things hadn’t even happened yet and somehow they were in her experience as though they were already logged into her history. 

_If you forgive me all this…_

_…If I forgive you all that_

_We forgive and forget_

_And it’s all coming back to me_

_…Now_

_(It’s all coming back to me now)_

_If we do it like this_

_(It’s all coming back to me now)_

_And you touch me like that_

_(It’s all coming back to me now)_

_…And if we…_

As soon as the last key was hit and the energy in the air dissipated — every future memory Honey experienced became null. It meant she didn’t have any recollection of any of it or even the awareness that she remembered. Her gift, or Force-Sensitivity, was at its peak when she was impassioned in song or if she were in love and those feelings were physically reciprocated in the present. The latter had never happened to her before — so the only way she could reach those heights was with music. 

Her lips pursed together in a coy smile as the crowd gave a standing applause. She’d done a good job and knew she got the blue guy’s attention. She stepped back to look at her bestie, exchanging a knowing expression. To her, he definitely stood out from the crowd. That sizzling was still running up and down her spine. It was pure electricity. Synchronicity. _She had to meet him._ And she knew she likely would — too — considering he was the target of their next venture. 

Sue-El was right when she said blue was going to be their lucky color tonight!

“And our judges will come together to tell us the winners of our contest! Enjoy a few refreshments until we make the announcement!” The host cheered after they’d left the stage. 

With her assumptions already made, Honey went to talk to him. When Thrawn saw her approaching, he gulped — his heart beating hundreds of miles per hour and his palms starting to sweat — and felt the sudden urge to flee. Quickly, he stood. It wasn’t like him to blush and stammer over someone who’d not even contacted him. She was just some girl he saw on stage! There was nothing special about this, he had to tell himself. There was no way that she was coming to _him_ — and to _him first_ — such a trifling, bizarre beauty he beheld. 

“Hey, handsome!” She said to him with a wide smile on her face. So much that it lifted the bottom of her eyes. _Yep_ , she was totally approaching him! “How’s it feel being the leader of the successful Returners?” 

Simply because she had no better way to open a conversation without sounding desperate and stupid. 

Behind her, her fingers were knitted together and she twisted at her hips, back and forth, in a much innocent-yet-flirting manner. 

“I’m no—” He started, but was interrupted.

“And did I mention how great you look? My, I’ve never met a guy quite like you—”

Up from behind, Sue-Ellen popped into view behind her, whispering loudly, “You’re supposed to give him a card reading — _not suck his dick!_ ”

“Are—” Honey gasped mid-breath, placing her open hand to her chest for dramatic effect, “Are you inferring that I’m a _hoochie?!_ ”

“… _Yep_.” Sue replied, emphasizing the popping the ‘p’ with her lips as the appearance of her gaze flattened.

“Card reading?” Thrawn tried to reel the conversation back on track — if there was really such a thing with these two. The comment about _dick sucking_ was lost on him, as innocent as he was in the matters of carnality. Funny, he could commit mass murder with the tenacity of a sociopath without flinching but when it came to matters like this he was…

“Well, what Sue-Ellen is suggesting is that I read your fortune!” Honey replied. When really what she meant was to get on his good side. She wanted to buy any opportunity to talk with him alone. Still, she was twisting at her waist, innocent wonder in her eyes — despite the fact she wasn’t _all that innocent_ . Perhaps a better word would be _genuine_. 

His mind went right back to the thought of spiritual frauds. Of course, with the way these women presented themselves — he got a feeling of warmth, rather than repulsion — and that he could trust them. Or, rather, it was his hope. The woman who approached him was someone he’d never want to take his eyes off of. An interesting spectacle it was, too, because as they stared into each others’ eyes… He felt like he was falling into water. His breath caught itself. 

With a blink, Sue-Ellen waved her hand between them to get their attention, “Hey! Hey you two! We’re here on business, Honey.”

“Honey?” Thrawn jolted back into reality.

“Yeah, my name is Honey,” she replied, “And this is my bestie, Sue-Ellen.”

“Pleasure.” Sue nodded slowly, reaching out to shake his hand. There was something here that she knew better than her partner. However, because of the way those two were just _ga-ga_ over each other, she decided to keep quiet about it. At least for now. When it became useful she would bring it up. 

Slowly, Thrawn shook her hand.

“So, you want that reading or what?” Honey smiled gleefully. 

“I usually don’t —” He started but continued with: “…but if I were able to talk to you in private I’d be willing to.”

Thrawn doubted that Honey would have any useful advice — but wanted to take advantage of this opportunity to get to know her better. Either way, whether she was a true Oracle or not, he would at least get to sit with her.

“Your friend is coming with us?” He asked.

“Naw,” Honey replied, “She’ll be standing outside the tent in case there are any intruders or nosy busybodies. Ain’t that right, babes?”

“Yep.” _And once she either seduces or beguiles him_ — Sue-Ellen thought — _we can figure getting a room for ourselves and how to earn more money. I hate scamming people but we have to eat, after all._

“Don’t forget this,” Sue dug into Honey’s backpack and handed her a zipped-up make-up satchel. 

“Oh no, can’t forget these,” Honey nodded, “We can go upstairs, right?” 

“Yes we can.” His heartbeat was still elevated. Thrawn sweat and prayed her eyes wouldn’t stray to the large, uncomfortable lump in his pants. It was rare for the tactician to be in heat. It was embarrassing — but with the way she looked at him, in his heart, things were right. So long as she was with him there was safety. According to Honey, they’d be sitting in privacy at a table — hopefully covered with a large tablecloth — so he could hide his shame. 

Unbeknown to the couple, Sue-El looked at his pants and with a wide-eyed, bemused grin she raised her brows — his boner obvious even through his black trousers. All she could do was shrug, with her hands curled behind her hips, tip her nose up and turn away to go see if she could bribe one of the judges before joining them later on. 

_Babe, you’re in for a real treat this time…_

*** * * ***

After making sure her client was seated comfortably, Honey sat down herself across the table from him. “Have you ever had a Tarot reading before?”

“Tarot?” Thrawn asked, his eyes straying over her dress. When he realized she noticed him gaze at her neckline, his sights darted back up to her face. 

“Tarot. Cartomancy,” she smiled patiently, “The card reading we were discussing earlier. Cartomancy is divination through the use of cards.” 

Pulling out the make-up bag she unzipped it and took out what looked like a box wrapped in silk-like cloth. Granted, she couldn’t afford silk — so, she went with the next best thing she could find in a decorative scarf from the thrift store. Slowly, she held out her palm and pulled the fabric and let the object unravel itself into her hand. 

Once that was done, she tucked the scarf back into the bag and tucked it under the table near her feet and started shuffling the deck of cards. They were larger, and perhaps thicker, than an average pack of playing cards that he’d noticed some of the officers using. Gambling was off-limits and could easily earn one a dishonorable discharge. Thrawn wasn’t sure what punishment would be allotted for divination — let alone whether it was a crime. These matters were only credibly done by Sith Masters or by the Emperor himself. Anyone else who dared to think they’d any authority were incredulous. Still, Thrawn left himself open to possibility. 

Maybe not for the sake of Imperial Tradition — but more of the fact that he was curious of whether or not he could scientifically debunk whatever theories this woman would purport to have. That, and that he wanted any excuse to be near her. He could _smell_ her — even from across the table. Not just the scent of her hair, skin, or whatever perfume she might have dabbed on that day — but the menopausal curse actually deduced his sense down to the most basic, animal instincts. He could smell her pink. That beautiful, intoxicating aroma gifted to him by virtue of the unconscious slight parting of her legs under the table. It seemed everything he felt and experienced were enhanced. With it being quiet and in private, he easily, and mindfully traced her insides with his inner eye — causing his erection to twitch and throb painfully. 

With his elbows resting on the table, he partly pressed his palms together — those fingers laced together eloquently. Closing his eyes, he felt a droplet of sweat go down the side of his face. It was a lot harder for him to control himself than he initially anticipated. Yes, he wanted to be alone with her. Yes, his genuine interest in her was more romantic than sensual — and yes, despite all his honorable intentions, he wanted to toss the table aside, plant a hard kiss against her lips, roughly hold her against him — and mount her then and there. 

Again and again, Thrawn heard the term “mounting” referring to sexual activities but even then he was oblivious as to how it worked. Would he hump her like he did his pillow? That wasn’t how reproduction worked, right? When the female became pregnant she was pregnant on the inside, right? Just how did she… He opened his tired eyes to gaze at her from across what felt like miles of mesa between them. Still, he held a stoic look on his face — his very best at keeping his composure — those red eyes of his staring at her pointedly. 

“Oh!” She cried, setting the deck on the table, “I almost forgot.”

He raised a brow, watching her move from her seat to a smaller stand. She brought over a few wide, pillar candles to set on the table. Moving that way again, she brought over a couple smaller ones and a few tea lights in their respective spots, pulling the extra burned ends from the wicks. 

“Sorry, just gotta set the mood. You know, the ambiance,” she grinned, scraping a long match across its board. When it lit she passed the flame to each candle. Honey moved to turn down the intensity of the lantern, causing the inside of the tent to dim, “Oooh, pretty. It’s _romantic_ , right?” She giggled.

Thrawn gulped behind his brooding hands, hoping she didn’t hear. The woman knew _just_ what to say to fluster him further. 

Honey came back and sat down with a slight bounce, her bosom sharing the same veracity. The Grand Admiral’s eyes strayed away so as to not stare. 

Exhaling through her nose, Honey picked up the deck again and started shuffling, “You got anything in particular you want to ask Tarot?” 

“You have to ask questions?” Thrawn had never consulted an Oracle before — at least from what he could readily remember. 

“Direct questions,” Honey explained, “Nothing airy or wishy-washy. It has to be specific. You want a specific answer then you have to ask a specific question. Does that make sense?”

“Makes a lot of sense,” Thrawn replied, discreetly shifting in his seat in an attempt to find comfort, “As every inquiry should be.”

“I’m glad you understand,” she nodded, smiling at him. 

His heart warmed seeing her happy. 

“What kind of question do you have for Tarot?” she asked.

 _Will you be my Mate?_ Was the first to enter his mind. Of course, though, he wouldn’t ask something so impulsive and blow his cover. He didn’t want to ruin his chances with her. One didn’t just fire every missile or beam at an enemy at the first strike. That would cloud their opponent and block whatever they had in store as rebuttal — then there would be no way to anticipate their next move or what ought to be done next. It was just plain stupid, honestly. Thrawn closed his eyes again, and tilted his head downward in thought, and sighed. What could he ask that wasn’t directly related to what was really on his heart? 

Perhaps something related to the resistance movement on Imaga-Rhun? That would be a lot less conspicuous and self-deprecating than asking about his love life. Those kinds of concerns were left to desperate fools who had nothing better to do with their lives but yearn for their mate. Which was precisely what Thrawn was doing. 

Inwardly, he groaned at himself. Why was he wasting time? Might as well ask a question without hesitation. She might think something was wrong.

“Will I attain my desire after returning to my post on the Chimaera?” He asked. Might as well make it vague and not give himself away. If she were a true Oracle this was her time to shine. Or it was her time to drown. 

He was testing her.

“I’m glad you asked!” She knocked on the center of the deck once then began shuffling. When she felt the intuitive nudge, she set the deck down and placed her left hand above it. Her palm was about an inch above the cards. She could feel a warmth coming from them. That was how she could tell that they were right for answering his question. Otherwise, she would have had to shuffle more. 

From there, she laid eleven of them out on the table, face down. She could feel his eyes on her hands and the cards, an inquisitiveness in his stare. Honey could already feel his disbelief — but then there was also a little hope in him, too, like not everything would turn out bad. That he had faith in her. She was glad she could make him feel safe. Then she flipped over the first card.

“The first card is in the position of the topic; which is 15 Nature,” she said, “Traditionally, it’s XV The Devil — but I’m using The Green Witch Tarot deck, so it’s a little different. Basically, you’re fighting against traditional values that were forced upon you since birth. You didn’t ask for this plight in your life and the clock is ticking down on you. You have tough choices that you’ve got to make.”

His brows rose at her accuracy but he said nothing. Only listened. 

“The second card is the challenge or what is blocking your goal,” she flipped it over, “and here is the Six of Chalices. It means you missed out on a proper childhood and were forced to grow up faster than your peers — therefore missing the connection or connections you need in order to live out the life you so desired. That, and you didn’t attain the skills necessary to make the events in the first card happen sooner. That is why it’s still a hard desire for you now, and time is your enemy.”

Upon hearing that, Thrawn brought his hands down and sat back in his seat and just looked at her, still with a stone-cold face. However, his mind was reeling. She could tell him _all that_ about himself simply by the use of artwork on cards? Fascinating.

“Your distant past, which is the third card,” she flipped it over. The cards were laid out in the classic Celtic Cross spread, “Is 13 The Lord of Shadows — traditionally known as XIII Death — meaning you were outcasted and had to make due with what was given to you. You were on the outside of society — a commoner — and were forced to let this lifestyle go to further your ambitions, yet you were still humble enough to give those who suffer a similar history as you the benefit of the doubt and the dignity they deserve.”

“The fourth card, which is your recent past — or right now — is the Page of Athames,” Honey continued, “it speaks of your innocence. Although, you are well versed in your adult masculinity you are still… You are still inexperienced but eager to push through and learn.”

He fought back a blush. 

“According to your fears of what would happen —” she flipped over the next card, “is the Seven of Athames. You’re afraid that all the hard work you’ve brought to the table will not be good enough for the person you wish to win over. That there will inevitably be something to stink up your plans — but you’re more afraid of being solely at fault than for an outside party being at fault.”

Thrawn frowned. It was true.

“As far as your near future,” she flipped over the sixth card, “You have the Nine of Chalices. You’re staring directly at what you desire.”

Which was, at least in Honey’s mind, metaphorical — she had no idea, at least right now, that her prophecy was _literal_. 

The Chiss felt his heart skip a beat. 

“The direct answer to your question —” She flipped over the next card, which was the bottom of the line next to the overturned collection of cards in a cross, “Is 5 The High Priest. Is yes — _you will_ have your desire — but you have to ask for it. If you believe in such a thing, I would pray for it, and have _faith_ that it _belongs to you_ and you will be blessed with it in Divine Timing.”

Oh, but the reading wasn’t over. There were still four cards she’d not exposed. 

“Card eight is your environment — the Knight of Pentacles,” she continued, “it means that since you direct well that you will be followed well. You have those who are loyal to you — and you only — and would go to the ends of the world for you, so-to-speak. Your environment is very supportive.”

“According to your fears and concerns, I draw the Two of Pentacles. Which means that you’re worried if you can juggle this huge task on your own two shoulders. But know that you have the support you need,” she pointed at the card below it, the Knight of Pentacles, “and that you cannot shoulder this all alone. That when you stepped foot into the new threshold that you were never doomed to be alone afterward. What you were cursed with is left behind you.”

“As for the end result—” Honey was about to turn over the second to last card but Thrawn reached over and put his hand on hers.

“That will be well enough,” he said, “I don’t wish to know the end. Not right now.”

“Do you mind if I peak?” She asked. 

“Go ahead,” he nodded, his fingers caressing the back of her hand gently, sliding over her knuckles and nails before returning to his side of the table. 

_The Three of Chalices,_ she thought, _It means he’ll find the happiness he always desired. Not just in a romantic relationship but in every aspect of his life — from a professional standpoint where is he genuinely respected instead of used as a tool, to his platonic relationships where he can bond with friends without fear, and as far as romance is concerned…_

“What of the final card?” He asked.

“Oh, the Advice card? Do you want me to pull it?” She put her hand over it.

“If it’s advice, then yes, please do.”

Turning it over she smiled, “You got the Ace of Chalices. Release yourself and let it run over,” oh goody, the connotations that could come with that! “Let your emotions go free. From this card I can see that you’ve repressed yourself considerably, at least in an emotional sense, that you’ve never been true to who you are for fear that you’d never be acceptable in the eyes of those who supposedly loved you — only to find that their love is conditional. That since then you’ve molded yourself into a cold person who appears not to care…”

She scanned over the other cards in the spread to glean more information from them, “That on the inside you want to move on from who you were — whom you’re expected to be — and pray that the new beginning is on the other side of your pain. That on the outside you want to be presentable with no marks on you. That as far as the Page of Athames with the Nine of Chalices… You want to ‘ _show your blade to this person_ ’ — so-to-speak — and have nothing to hide between you.”

Again, Honey thought she was being metaphorical. For Thrawn, though? _It was literal._ He felt his face and neck become hot — as cartoony steam puffed out from his temples — and brought his head down to not show his face. 

“ _El… El-iyah~_ ” He cried, a single hand attempted to reach out for her as his entire body started quivering. 

“My name isn’t _El-iyah_ ,” she corrected him, “It’s _Honey_.”

Then he began to shudder, without looking at her, gripping the side of the table with a single blue hand. “Th-Thrawn! A-are you gonna be okay? You’re shaking like a leaf. Are you cold? Please don’t get sick — ah, ahh —”

She practically leapt from her seat, bumped the table with her hip and caused some of the cards to fall out of their spots and the deck to unevenly dishevel — just to get to the rear entrance of the tent, “S- _Sue!_ Sue, I need your help! I think he’s getting sick! We need a blanket!” And left him to his own predicament. 

His other hand slammed down to the edge of the table, gripping it as well. He gritted his teeth and hissed in a breath. His lower abdomen near his loins had expanded over the last few days — unseen by most eyes — and gave him the worst cramps of the year. “Guk— G…Guh…” With both hands on the table, he sat at the edge of his seat. _I’m not sure how much longer… How much longer I can…_

This part was much easier with her gone — so she wouldn’t have to see his agony. 

_...I can hold it!_

Those brows of his pressed together as he clenched his eyes closed and bared those white teeth in contrast against the pigment of his flesh. Behind him, as in every dramatic-metaphorical effect, the art of the pressure of a volcano reached its maximum limit before ropes of lava burst from its opening. “... _Hnnnnnngh!_ ”

Loudly, Thrawn gave a long, shaky sigh of relief. There was a large, dripping, hot and sticky puddle in his lap hidden under his pants. His shoulders and chest expanded and contracted with heavy breathing as he attempted to relax. He plopped back into his seat and looked around the tent dizzily, dripping in sweat. 

_Finally —_ that was over. 

How long had it been since the last one? …Since his birthday right?

And exactly — _how many months ago_ was that? Jiminy Crickets. 

“Haa… Haa…” he breathed, “Haa…”

“You didn’t hurt him, did you?!” He could hear Sue-El yelling from the outside of the tent.

“Why on earth would I do that?!” Honey quipped as they entered again with a blanket. 

“ _Christ!_ ” Sue shook her head, “He doesn’t need a blanket. See how sweaty he is? The guy is hot. We need to get some ice water for him and get him back to his room before he hurts himself.”

“I’ll go get the ice water and compress then,” Honey whined.

“No, no. I’ll go get it. In the meantime, wipe his face off.” Sue shook her head and left again.

“Okay…” With guilt, Honey took out a handkerchief from her blouse and went to one of the stands inside the tent and dunked it in her glass of ice water. She brought it over to him and patted down his face. He looked at her tiredly. 

“… _El-iyah,_ ” he huffed. 

She puffed up her cheek, annoyed, “My _name_ is _Honey!_ ”

*** * * ***

“He left without a word,” Eli remarked, “I’m awful worried. It isn’t like him to keep us out of the loop.” 

“Indeed,” Captain Pellaeon nodded, taking another sip of his drink, “All the information I was given was that he was on sabbatical for a ‘health condition’. There were no other details spoken of.”

Eli held his chin and pressed a button to move one of the holograms across the digital chess board.

“…I remember the last time I was with him,” Rukh entered the conversation, curled up in a corner near the two, his fur tail swishing around behind him, “I was guarding his door while he was asleep and I remember him crying out, ‘ _…El-iyah! …El-iyah!_ ’ Do you know who ‘El-iyah’ is, Commander Vanto?”

“So, _that’s it_.” Eli pressed a button to garner the last move, causing Pellaeon to be in checkmate. 

“What’s it?” Pellaeon looked more confused about Eli’s sudden revelation than about the loss of the game itself. 

“’ _El-iyah_.’ It makes sense now!” He cried, “Do you know what this means, Captain?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I did, Commander,” Pellaeon quipped.

“Loosely translated, _‘El’_ in Sy Bisti can mean ‘ _God_ ’, ‘ _Universe_ ’ and is synonymous with ‘ _Life_ ’. They’re used interchangeably.”

“Yeah, and?” The Captain was getting impatient.

“And ‘ _-iyah_ ’ means ‘ _union_ ’ or ‘ _connection_ ’ but in a spiritual and romantic sense — _mate_ ,” Eli continued, “So when Thrawn cries out for _‘El-iyah’ —_ basically, he’s crying out in his mother tongue for his _‘Life-Mate’!”_

“ _So what_ if he has a wet dream or two?” Pellaeon glared at him. If the kid didn’t get to the point he was liable to shoot him, “Just what the hell does that got to do with his medical condition?”

“…So disrespectful,” Rukh muttered and closed his eyes to sleep.

“I’d completely forgotten that part of Chiss psychology —” It was like Eli had come across a monumental discovery that would forever change the course of… Well, history! “Thrawn isn’t suffering any _ordinary_ illness, Captain — he’s _lovesick_. I thought it was just mere mythology — that it was just a fairytale — but it’s true! If a Chiss hasn’t mated by their 39th birthday then they suffer a menopausal year.”

“And _why_ is that a big deal?” The Captain pushed his cap up.

“You see, Chiss are designed to only have a single Mate their entire lifetime — when they mate, their DNA merges with that of their partners and they’re stuck. There’s no turning back after that. It’s rare to see a Chiss reach that age before finding their Mate, Pellaeon — and Thrawn is the exception. That is why we haven’t seen the race go extinct. It’s because ‘ _The Mourning Year_ ’ is a very rare phenomena. Our Grand Admiral is an anomaly. He’s so focused on military strategy and climbing the ranks to save his people — who basically _turned their backs_ on him, leaving him completely ostracized — that he’d completely neglected his own emotions and… Well, _sexual_ needs.” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, _hold on_ ,” the Captain waved his hands in front of him, “You’re telling me… That our _Grand Admiral_ — of all people — is a… Is a uh…”

Goodness, even Gilad Pellaeon was afraid to say it. 

“…Yes. Thrawn is a _virgin._ ” There, Eli said it _for him_. 

“At _his age??_ ” Still, the Captain was in disbelief. 

“Indeed,” Eli nodded.

“So, what happens if he doesn’t find a mate after that year?” The Captain was curious.

“…According to mythology, he becomes sterile and impotent.”

“You mean he wouldn’t be able to…” 

“…Nope.”

“Damn.”

“Okay, you answered my question. Would you two just shut up now?” Rukh growled at them, “I’m trying to sleep.”

“Right, right.” Both Eli and Pellaeon quieted down.

*** * * ***

When he woke up, all Thrawn could see was the ceiling. He stirred somewhat only to be firmly held down by soft hands. 

“Stay in bed,” she said. Thankfully, she’d not changed his clothes for him, otherwise she would have found the enormous puddle in his lap. It was starting to make it uncomfortable for him — but he kept quiet. He would change later. 

“Why are you…” He muttered.

“You passed out,” Honey said, “We got you back to your room. You’re going to be okay now, right?” 

The dim, warm light shined on her face from the nearby oil lamp. There were certain areas of the hostel that had no access to electricity. It was the historical district, of course. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it gently. 

“Please tell me you’re going to be okay after I leave,” she said, “I won’t be able to sleep tonight if you don’t.”

For the first time ever, he softly smiled at her, “I’m going to be fine.”

The woman nodded, “Good,” and pushed some of his loose, dark locks from his forehead back into place. They fell back down anyway. Her fingers combed through his hair as she stared at him silently. 

_So, this is what it felt like to be loved._

If that’s what he could have called it. 

“If you need anything,” she said anxiously, “anything at all — don’t hesitate to come knocking on my door or to send somebody. I’ll be here in heartbeat.”

His own heart thumped in his chest. 

“…Why would you—” He started but the door was opened. It was Sue.

“Just let him rest, Honey,” she nagged, “You can molest him later.”

“ _Sue!_ ” Honey growled as she stood, facing the doorway. 

The closest translation of ‘molest’ that came to Thrawn’s mind was ‘bother’ — and it had no sexual connotations in his vocabulary.

“Yes…” He said, “Yes, you can bother me later.”

“If that’s what you want,” Honey turned to him again, her hand moving from his hair to the side of his face. She pulled away, the feeling of her fingertips still lingering on his skin, “Sleep well. I’ll see you tomorrow, promise.”

“…Sleep well,” he replied and the door was shut. Thrawn sighed happily, wondering what kind of exchange _that was_ and why it made him feel this way. In that moment, the mind of the tactician came into play — what were the next steps he needed to take in order to _woo_ her into feeling the same way about _him_ the way he felt about _her?_

_And thus, the indigenous Chiss mating ritual began…_


End file.
